


The Divide

by DistantStorm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: BAMF Eli Vanto, Civil War, Drama, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Families of Choice, Gen, M/M, Speculation of Chiss Politics, The Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 84,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: The Divide: Across the Chaos, that was what they called it.In the course of that single night, the Ascendancy was irreversibly changed. Now, the families are at war, and all CDF personnel have been called back to move against each other by the remnants of the syndicure.With leadership in question, Admiral Ar’alani takes the necessary actions to mount a resistance against threats from both without and within. There is more at stake than personal glory or self-righteousness. Her forces fight for the Chiss Ascendancy. It is of no consequence if history depicts them as the heroes or the villains, though they will be long since forgotten if they allow themselves to be preyed upon by waiting enemies when war has all but destroyed them...(Or, a story where Thrawn returns home to discover that protecting the Ascendancy effectively makes him the rebel... And everything that's gone wrong has been blamed on Eli Vanto.)
Relationships: Ar'alani & Eli Vanto, Ar'alani & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Ezra Bridger & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Ezra Bridger & Un'hee, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto, Un'hee & Eli Vanto
Comments: 454
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to yet another accidental slowburn by yours truly. If you're here for the smut, see chapter 22.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -Distant

Their conversation had been encrypted. When her questis confirmed that the data packet had sent and connection had successfully been terminated after, she wiped the device entirely and reconnected it to the ship’s network. A brief look at her memory wall told her that she would not find any comfort there. Her victories felt hollow now.

The reports that comprised the data packet she’d sent had come in spotty, but what intelligence Admiral Ar’alani received was verified and sound. Doing it this way was not what she had wanted. However, protocol dictated her course of action, and thus the loopholes she had to work through as a result. All the same, a small, increasingly jaded part of her couldn’t help but to wonder if such protocol truly applied anymore. 

Since the Divide, it was as if their rules - laws, _traditions_ \- meant nothing. It may as well be anarchy.

She forced herself to abandon that line of thought. Ultimately, it did not matter what the others did. Ar’alani was a woman of honor, a warrior of the Chiss Ascendancy. She knew their ways existed as they did for a reason. She could not send her fleet to retrieve one warrior, no matter how badly his mind was needed. Others would have to pursue him in her stead. She could be patient, would have to be. There was no other choice.

Free of her office, the admiral strode through the corridors of her ship. Every officer and warrior she passed shifted to the briefest moment of attention they crossed ways in a show of respect. In these moments she could almost pretend that it was business as usual. That they were simply on patrol, making sure their corner of the Chaos remained outside of their enemy’s grasp. 

Her feet carried her to the navigators’ section seemingly of their own accord. There, she could pretend no longer. She checked in each room, confirmed all were present and accounted for. Instead of five girls, there were thirty. There were three and four girls to a bed, the youngest ones clinging to the eldest, seeking some illusion of safety. Twenty-five younglings who had been evacuated before they could be used like bargaining chips. She disliked thinking of the numbers. They only served to remind her of how many others remained in harm’s way.

In the last room, one of the navigators and their caretaker were still awake.

“Admiral,”The caretaker regarded her tiredly, a navigator sitting in the chair beside her. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

The young girl looked up, her small, glowing eyes somber. It looked as though the child had purposefully distanced herself from her caretaker, wanting to brood in her melancholy. 

Ar’alani inclined her head to the girl first. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Navigator,” She replied, voice taking on something that resembled gentility. Then, to the caretaker, she added, “Please, get some rest. I will take it from here.”

The girl hopped down from her seat and made her way to Admiral Ar’alani. When Ar’alani extended her hand, the girl gripped it tightly. Neither of them seemed to be capable of smiling.

None of them had, lately.

Their trek was not a long one. Their destination was familiar, though not for any reason they would have preferred. The walls of the room at the end of the hall were covered in pictures, drawings on paper with markers and pen and paint, all shades of blue and red, brown and black, all made by those thirty children’s hands. 

The navigator scurried across the room without regard for the medic or clinicians around them. With great care, she scrambled up onto the medi-bed and looked down at the figure lying prone upon it. Not for the first time, Ar’alani was struck by the girl’s youth, the way her short life had held so much pain.

This was not what she had wanted for the Navigators. This was not what she wanted for her crew. This was not what she wanted for the Ascendancy. This was not, had never been, would never be her goal. Surely her people were not this foolish.

Navigator Un’hee’s lip wobbled as she spoke, saying the same words she’d spoken every day for the last fortnight. “It’s time to wake up, Eli.”

Helplessly, when the human did not reply, she looked to Ar’alani. Ar’alani herself had never let herself be ruled by her emotions. She couldn’t be in command of this warship or their fleet if she allowed her tumultuous emotions to dictate her actions. Not that she didn't have feelings about the events leading to the human male being in this state, or a detached sort of maternal instinct that bolstered fierce protectiveness inside her for this little girl and all of her sisters. 

“Soon,” Ar’alani soothed. “I am certain the lieutenant commander does not mean to keep us waiting.”

And yet, somehow the admiral knew it would be weeks before the Ascendancy’s lone human officer would awaken.

\----------

It had taken four planets and more than twice as many months for Thrawn to offer more than intervention in threats on Ezra's life and basic orders to keep their trek through miscellaneous terrain going smoothly. Ezra didn't like him. Didn't trust his motivations. But he did know a smart person when he saw them, and he trusted the Force enough to be open to the possibility of Thrawn being his ally, as he had said.

Ezra had spent most of their hyperspace journey away from Lothal so closely connected with the purrgil he didn’t know where the giant beasts ended and he began. He hadn’t cared about where or how far so much as he cared about safety for those he had left. He didn’t remember much about their crash landing, only that the purrgil had severed the connection and left himself, Thrawn, and the derelict Chimaera on some out-of-the-way planet. 

That first planet, Thrawn had only thrown the necessary materials for survival at him, and Ezra got the feeling that whatever Ezra did was his choice, and yet a test issued by Thrawn. Whatever sentients they encountered didn’t speak Basic, and Ezra had no way of knowing what it was Thrawn said, only that he’d tried two languages before they reached some kind of understanding.

After securing transportation to the second, Thrawn had said nothing. Ezra had to read from context and body language that he was included in whatever the grand admiral was planning. He’d tried goading Thrawn into talking, into giving up whatever his machinations were, how he planned to get back to his beloved Empire. Thrawn didn’t rise to the bait, though Ezra could tell he was wearing on the other man.

The third was much the same, but with blunted orders that Ezra followed without words, aware that he was out of his element.

Their current planet, called Jepaa, was mostly jungle. The trees were a strange shade of purple-green that glowed faintly in the dark, and the ground was a creamy, pale violet that seemed ethereal in the strange perpetual sunrise that made up the day.

"The Chaos is like that," Thrawn had told Ezra cryptically, leaving Ezra to conclude that the planet orbits a sun, but it doesn't properly rotate on an axis. Almost everything he knew was based on scattered, barely-verbalized thought from Thrawn and context clues.

But… “Wait,” Ezra said, and Thrawn stopped, turned back. Blazing red eyes took him in, but he said nothing.

That was fine. Because for all the talking he didn't do now, Thrawn _had_ talked when he believed he was going to die, somewhere in the blackness of space. Months later, Ezra still dreamed about it in tiny snatches of dream-softened memory. The alien - the _Chiss_ \- on the bridge of his now-ruined flagship, held tight by purrgil who served Ezra's whims. What he had said made such little sense.

_"My people… the Chiss need allies. The true enemy is the one… they stand against... you must go to them. The Chaos..."_

Ezra’s eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed, lines creasing his forehead. “Are-” He considered it another second, but pressed onward. They had to talk about it eventually. He’d only been following Thrawn around with a sort of morbid curiosity until now. “Are we going to the Chiss homeworld?”

Something strange crossed Thrawn’s features like a shadow. His mouth curved downward. “My people do not live on one single planet,” He said. “We occupy a collection of planets and systems referred to as the Chiss Ascendancy.” He turned, continued walking.

“Why have I never heard of them? Or you.” Ezra scrambled to keep up with the taller man. “I mean,” He clarified, “The Chiss.”

“The Lesser Galaxy cares little for the Chaos,” Came the other’s reply.

“‘Lesser Galaxy,’” Ezra tested the words and reacted as though they had a bitter taste. “Why are we ‘lesser?’”

Thrawn waited until Ezra was less than five paces behind to answer him, the Jedi hustling along briskly, jarring the battered pack he carried with each step. “I suppose it is for the same reason the Empire does not like aliens,” He said.

“But you’re a grand admiral,” Ezra stressed, sounding frustrated. “You did what the Emperor asked. Now you’re walking away?” He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I did what was asked of me.” Thrawn looked to the path ahead. Nothing but lush jungle and purple dirt in the pale light, for as far as the eye could see. “And I outlived my usefulness.”

“What does that even _mean_?”

The grand admiral looked down at him, deadpan. “What do you _think_ it means?”

Ezra ignored that and went back to the easier, safer topic.. “What I’m hearing is that the Chiss don’t like aliens.”

“The Chiss,” Thrawn pointed out, “Are not like the Empire. There may be some socio-cultural nuances they have in common, but we do not seek conquest of the Chaos at large. We seek only to protect our borders from others who would attempt to bring their influence to bear upon us.”

“‘Us,’” Ezra echoed, softly, yet again drawing the gaze of the Chiss. The young man crossed his arms, thinking.

“Surely you understand.” Thrawn pushed a branch out of their way, waiting for Ezra to pass before letting it snap back to its natural state. “Consider what you have done for the greater good of your planet.”

The subject rankled. Ezra was not proud of the deaths of the Imperials, even though he knew many of them had escaped the crippled star destroyer during their voyage through hyperspace. “I don’t _enjoy_ hurting people,” The Jedi said.

“Nor do I,” Thrawn assured him. “But to understand the Empire’s secrets, I needed to gain the Emperor’s trust.”

“And where’d that get you?” Ezra asked. “Because it doesn’t look like you’re going home with much of anything from here.”

Thrawn didn’t answer him right away, but Ezra caught sight of his expression. It was dark. Pained, almost. He’d had plans, obviously. People like Thrawn always had plans and contingencies. Ezra had a feeling none of them had prepared the Chiss for this.

“My mission was a failure,” He admitted. “Nearly twenty years-”

“Twenty?!” Ezra all but screeched.

“I have gathered intelligence,” Thrawn spoke over him. “But I have not ascertained allies.”

Ezra’s voice was soft, inquisitive but without that fierce push of interrogation. “Was that your objective?”

Thrawn’s eyes glowed in the dim light of the jungle. He considered Ezra a long moment, the time stretching between them awkward enough to make the younger man ill at ease. Then, he readjusted his pack and turned back to face the sliver of sun on the horizon, moving stealthily through the trees.

Yes, Ezra supposed. That had been Thrawn’s objective, probably on a grand scale. How could he go through nearly two decades without finding a single Imperial ally? That wasn’t right. He was missing something. He’d seen plenty of imperials, fought more than he could ever count. Thrawn’s people were smarter, stronger, _better_ , and most of all, they were loyal. Ezra had a funny feeling that it had everything to do with the man himself.

Ezra wasn’t much for patience - he wanted momentum, to feel like he was _doing_ something. But Thrawn wasn’t going to come out and tell him all the details. He probably never would. So Ezra would wait and he would figure things out for himself. Thrawn was not like a mere stormtrooper. His convictions and actions in the Force were strange. He was like a polished stone, quick to slip from his mind’s grasp. Ezra would just have to trust his instincts, and he was more than okay with that.

The only thing the Force did tell him with certainty was that there was something out here. It was instinct that suggested that that something was probably the enemy that Thrawn had been sent out to recruit allies to defend against.


	2. Chapter 2

Admiral Karyn Faro had been waiting for cycles now. She’d kept her head down, completed her orientation and onboarding on Coruscant, and made her way to her new flagship without so much as making a single wave. It hadn’t been easy, though. Especially given her nature. She was the kind of woman who pushed back on crazy orders she didn’t understand, the sarcastic spitfire who didn’t just take things lying down.

Things were moving quickly within the Empire. Ramping up. There were talks of open warfare, of the Rebellion gaining strength in the shadows, just waiting to strike. High Command had sent her to the Outer Rim. A lackluster patrol, something just to stretch her legs, get a feel for her new position. Then, the fun would begin. She had already been scouted by Moff Tarkin for some venture or other, but it could wait, he’d said. There were other matters currently occupying his attention and he’d be in touch.

Nearly a year had passed. She had established herself as the model admiral: all prim decorum and impeccable manners, eager to please. She’d played the game. She’d held her tongue so much she was surprised she hadn’t bitten it off. 

Perhaps, in some alternate reality, it would have been everything she had ever dreamed of in a commission. She would have gotten through that rocky interim adjustment period, bonded with her crew, set out to make a name for her ship, its crew, and herself, and it would have been a benignly awkward, but exciting time in her life. Maybe it would’ve been her ticket to the big time, to becoming Grand Admiral Faro. 

But this wasn’t who she was. And this wasn’t what she’d signed up for.

She’d served during the Clone War, and in the time that came after. Back then, she hadn’t asked questions either. But then, it had been because she was too young and inexperienced, and hadn't had half an idea what the hell she was even looking at. At least, that’s what she’d like to tell herself.

The truth of the matter - the heart of it - was ugly. The truth was that the military did what the governing body had told it to. She wasn’t sure what was the actual truth, but she’d known what her orders were. She’d probably never know.

Now, however, Admiral Karyn Faro knew too much about her situation. She knew about Krennic’s planet-killer. And she knew that neither the Empire or its supreme ruler cared anything about its troops at all. They might as well be clones or seppies, either or. 

Just like she knew how the game was played and how coups happened all the time - for power or pettiness alike - she knew there was more than mere pettiness or power-grabs in play here. Imperial Star Destroyers - an entire decorated fleet - didn’t just disappear overnight.

No one had ever asked her about Lothal. Not Tarkin or Yullaren, not any of the other admirals in almost a year’s time. It was like living in a waking dream. As if she had won the intergalactic lottery: whisked away to Coruscant for her promotion ceremony while everyone and everything she’d known for more than the last decade disappeared as if it had never been real at all.

Faro wasn’t much of a dreamer. She was the type to dig in and get her hands dirty, the type to develop a plan. If they wanted to pretend it never happened, that her career and her life started over three cycles ago, en-route to Coruscant and High Command, that was fine. They could pretend.

An entire fleet had gone missing, and every one of the thousands upon thousands aboard each vessel had been flagged missing, assumed dead. There had been no announcement. No search. No rescue. No reported shipwrecks.

There had only been an alien admiral who had gotten results, until he didn't. It had happened in an Outer Rim world, and the Empire cast a long shadow. None of it really mattered. They simply swept him and his failure under the metaphorical rug...

And forgot the rest of those that had served under him.

For cycles, she bided her time. She put together the details and let the persona she put forward hide the information she gathered in the shadows.

When the message came, it was in Sy Bisti.

If the Empire and the Rebellion wanted to blow each other to bits, she could not stop them from doing so. All she could do was take the necessary precautions to defend against what was coming for whomever was left. What side she was on hardly mattered when it came to accomplishing that.

When she was asked to betray her Empire, Admiral Karyn Faro said yes.

\----------

The cantina - not cantina, Faro corrected, they just called it a bar out here - was just as dim and dreary as it always was between the midday and latemeal lulls. The same three drunkards lingered in their seats at the counter, and the broadcast system played music that sounded centuries old with quaint, crooning peaks. She, however, occupied a booth just offset from the corner, giving her a good view of the entrance from her peripheral without making it obvious she was watching. 

She only so good at star charts or maps on her own, but the most recent intel they had provided her with yielded results. It seemed that someone in Ar’alani’s intelligence circle actually knew how to account for discrepancies within the Chaos when determining potential trajectories for a change. She had discovered the charred remains of the _Chimaera_ from a planet’s orbit, scanned and confirmed no sentient humanoid life signatures were present, and moved on to the next. The trail had likely gone cold months earlier, but travel in the Chaos was next to impossible and small passenger craft and freighters stuck to the paths that remained consistently stable. There was only so far Thrawn could have gotten, even if he’d managed to secure his own ship.

This part of the Chaos was a maelstrom of activity. Solar winds and supernovas amidst a myriad more reasons that translated to instability and a lack of calm gave this part of space its name. Phanyu’ta - the capital city of the planet Jepaa - was a strange city of flat land and no trees, surrounded by a bioluminescent jungle that stretched as far as the eye could see. At some point, the planet gave way to verdant oceans, but she had only seen them on her way in. This city - the only true metropolitan entity on the planet - was landlocked. It did not, and would not, according to those who lived here, expand due to the high propensity for dangerous weather and unpredictable seasons, but most importantly ground tremors likely to blame on the planet’s ever-fluctuating orbit. 

There was work, though. The few stable mines produced strangely glowing, in-demand crystals. They weren’t of any value beyond aesthetic, but she could see the appeal. In the near-constant twilight, a glowing stone lantern was damn useful.

Mostly, this was a waystation. A place for travelers to stop, refuel, then continue. Maybe even grab a glowing rock as a souvenir.

That was not Karyn Faro’s purpose for being here.

The manual doors that allowed patrons access swung wildly as a new patron entered. The equally manual, metallic chime of the doors was almost like added percussion for the music in the background. 

Faro ducked her cloak-covered head when that familiar, severe gaze swept across the room, studying her outdated datapad - no, she pushed herself. Not datapad. Questis.

He wasn’t alone.

The boy - Ezra Bridger (Jedi, Faro’s mind screamed at her, the _JEDI_ ) - spoke in Basic.

“And we’re still no closer to a ship,” The Jedi was saying, “We’ve been on this lousy planet for-”

She caught the sharp cutting motion of Thrawn’s hand, cast out to silence him in her periphery, but kept studying her questis, even though her eyes couldn’t comprehend the words. Intelligence she’d gathered from the ruined _Chimaera_ had suggested that the Jedi lived, and it would make sense that Thrawn would keep Ezra Bridger with him.

And yet, something inside her felt unsettled when she thought about the carelessness with which he’d destroyed the Seventh Fleet. How could Thrawn stand to look at him? She wanted…

She wanted to rip his limbs from his body and feed them to him. She wanted to space him in hopes that maybe those last few minutes of his life would help him to understand what he’d done to her fellow men and women who were just trying to keep the Galaxy safe. Not all of them wanted a war. And any of them who did, if they had any decency, didn’t after their first round of conflict.

Get it together, Faro, she told herself firmly. Taking a deep breath, she let the fury and anger run its course and drain away. Years of military service had allowed her to overcome her mind’s knee-jerk tendency to react, though her temper still flared beneath it all, showing itself in cutting words and thoughts, but never actions. Begrudgingly, she had to admit she understood the logic. Thrawn saw an opportunity and took advantage of it. The boy was Jedi. And if he wasn’t actively trying to kill Thrawn, he’d be a good ally to have.

Thrawn spoke to the barkeep in soft words, barely heard. That part of the conversation wasn’t entirely necessary. The barkeep was old and half-deaf. He spoke plenty loud for them both, cutting over the drone of the music.

“Y’don’t wanna go that way, son,” He said, in a lilting rendition of the trade language most frequently spoken on Jepaa. She watched Bridger. He didn’t appear to understand what was being said at all. “Y’might be Chiss,” He continued, “But you definitely don’t want anything to do with whatever’s left of the Ascendancy.”

Thrawn’s singular word was hot, like a brand. “What,” He demanded, and this time it was loud enough for Faro to hear him clearly.

The barkeep shrugged with his hands, refilling a glass with bright yellow liquor for a patron and sliding it down the bar. “I’ve mostly heard rumors,” He said. “Little whispers here and there. Most beings tend to avoid the Ascendancy, as you know.” He inclined his head. “But the rumors say that _something_ incited a war.”

She watched as Thrawn’s shoulders rose incrementally, giving away a tightness indicative of concern.

The old man continued. “All of a sudden, blammo!” The barkeep - who would almost look human if not for the reptilian scales on his face and hands - shrugged. “Who knows if you’d even be able to cross into that space. Nobody I’ve heard of is willing to talk about it, much less get close.”

There was a strange silence. Currency had to have been exchanged, she guessed, from the way the Jedi’s posture became uneasy. Bridger must have recognized that whatever was happening was giving them intel. Thrawn leaned in as the barkeep spoke, a quirk she remembered indicating Thrawn’s very sharp, piercing attention. It didn’t last. Instantly, microscopically, Thrawn jerked away as if burned by the words.

“They say some human turned them against each other. What in the hells you Chiss were doing with a human is beyond me.” When the barkeep turned his attention to the Jedi, Faro watched him whistle. “Yeah, you two _definitely_ don’t wanna go out that way,” He drawled. “Seems like a good way to get dead.”

“He is not returning with me,” Thrawn said firmly. Faro read something that might have been part shock but mostly fury in the hard line of the Chiss’s shoulders. He was trying to keep the conversation going, but at this point there wasn’t much left to say. Faro doubted that the barkeep knew anything more. That he’d even known this much was a surprise to her, though perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Travelers tended to talk when spirits were involved. “I simply-”

“Well, good luck anyway,” The barkeep interrupted. “That’s a mess you don’t wanna go getting yourself involved with.” He put both hands on his hips and looked Thrawn, then Bridger up and down, assessing them. “Now then, are you lot staying to imbibe or what?”

Faro couldn’t say she was surprised to see Thrawn turn and stalk out of the establishment without regard for the young man left standing confused and to his left. She considered her own plans. This wasn’t ideal in the slightest. The plan had been to get Thrawn back to the Ascendancy and let Ar’alani handle it.

They all knew better than to think that things would go as planned, though Faro had hoped. She didn’t know how to have this conversation with Thrawn. She didn’t even know what happened, not entirely. She agreed to go on this mission, to help the Ascendancy get Thrawn back, but she knew about as much as the barkeep did. The Chiss were at war with each other. 

And rumor went that Eli Vanto had started it.

He hadn't. Faro knew that the rumors weren't true. Eli Vanto was the best of them: loyal, kind, too pure.

Still, she couldn't intervene here. Part of her wanted to, but the cost would be too great. Thrawn's face when he stalked out, the tension in his body and face spoke of barely contained hostility. There was no doubt in her mind that just the existence of such a rumor would shake him, even if his knee-jerk reaction - like hers had been - was probably that Brierly Ronan was the human at fault. If she revealed herself, or inserted herself into his path masquerading as a stranger right away, she wouldn't get anywhere.

Thrawn would close himself off, or worse, he would neutralize what he perceived as a threat. She would have to wait, and she definitely couldn't approach him as herself, tied as she had been to an Imperial agenda. But if he approached her, on his terms, that might be something they could salvage.

Going in her favor was one simple thing: Thrawn’s travelling companion was someone Karyn Faro had never met face to face. She did not particularly want to speak with Ezra Bridger, to make him her ally, but if he was still at Thrawn's side all these months later, she would be a fool not to use him to establish that necessary link.

Slouching against the back of the booth, she let her legs splay wide - a weird, uncomfortable position for an ex-soldier - and waited. The kid mimed his food order to the barkeep, waited one step back from the chairs at the counter, and turned to leave once two boxes containing meals had been secured.

She waved him over when he tried to leave. In that language, the first one that Thrawn had tried but the barkeep and other patrons didn't speak, she drawled, "You know any Sy Bisti, kid?"

The young man jerked to a stop. He recognized it. Figures that Thrawn would teach the kid some Sy Bisti. It was the most common language used out near the edges of the Chaos. The Jedi eyed her a little wary, but mostly sheepish. She indicated the seat across from her, watched him consider for five seconds, then tentatively take a seat.

"You're not from around here," She said, switching to Basic while keeping her voice greedy, like a scoundrel might. She let her words drag with the accent appropriated to the trade language, doing her best to keep her true origins out of sight.

"You speak Basic?" The boy sounded terribly relieved. His shoulders dropped. Then, "No, obviously not."

"Whatever your friend wants with the Chiss-"

"You were eavesdropping." Bridger accused. His hackles went back up. Good, she thought.

"Whatever," She interrupted, hissing tersely, "How in the hells do you think folks do business? It sounds like you need a lift to hostile space. The Navigator Guild won't get involved," She said. "Probably take months, even if you know the coordinates."

"It will?"

"And even if you had a Navigator," She looked him up and down, not having to pretend she was unimpressed, "Hostilities in the Ascendancy's borders will pretty much ensure you're fired upon."

"So that's what it was," Bridger confirmed quietly to himself. Faro pretended not to hear. "They're at war with each other?" He asked, less rhetorical. "Do you know why?"

She forced herself to tell the old-man barkeep's lie. "I know the rumors. Some human stuck his nose where it didn't belong, pissed off the government, and they started fighting amongst themselves."

"Human? There aren't any humans in the Ascendancy. Th- my friend said," The kid recovered, and Faro wondered how bad Imperial troops were that this kid had made it through an academy undercover without being recognized as a plant, "He said that the Chiss don't like outsiders."

"Well, apparently this one was special," She said with an exaggerated eye roll. "Or maybe they realized he wasn't, not my place to know. All that matters now is that both sides are trying to blow each other's brains out."

"Why are you telling me this, if it's just what the barkeep said?" The kid puzzled aloud, then refocused. "Do you know how to get there?"

Faro lowered the cloth wrap that protected her nose and mouth and allowed herself a sip of the alcoholic beverage in front of her. It was good, but then again she'd always preferred that middle-of-the-road local swill to Coruscanti liquor. She let herself enjoy another taste, left her bandana tucked beneath her chin and smirked. "You're catching on," She chuckled, disliking the way she sounded like she was trying to pick the kid up. 

Of course, winning him over was exactly what she had to do if she was going to land Thrawn. "I can take you there," She continued. "Just depends on how much you've got." She palmed her credit pouch. They called it coin here, and the pieces jangled just loud enough to be heard. There were too many currencies to count.

She named her price: what the guild would have charged if they would have been willing - they weren’t, she knew, plus fifty percent to account for the fact that she'd be doing it jump by jump and not in two or three lengthy stretches. His face fell. Too much, she noted. She wasn’t surprised. She assumed their path from the _Chimaera’s_ still-smoking hull to this planet had been costly, and whatever they might have been able to salvage, then carry hadn’t gotten them very far at all.

"I'll tell my friend," The Jedi said. His face was guarded. Good, she thought again, he was capable of thinking realistically. Tentatively, he probed, "You gonna be around for a while?"

"Probably," She lied. “You talk to your pal and let me know.”

He nodded, picked up his containers of rapidly cooling food, and rose from the table to leave. After a step, he turned back. “What did you say your name was?” He asked.

She grinned. “I didn’t,” She told him, eyeing her drink. When she looked up, he was watching her with a scrutiny that would have unsettled her more if she didn’t know exactly who and what he was. 

“Call me Nightswan,” Faro said.


	3. Chapter 3

Ezra’s relationship with Thrawn was… interesting. Sometimes it felt like they couldn’t be more different if they tried. Other times, Ezra felt like he knew Thrawn with a sort of intensity that rubbed his wary heart raw. This was one of those. 

He didn’t know what Thrawn was feeling or why, but what he did know was that something was wrong. Instead of pressing on the Chiss, which never got him anywhere, he sat at the table in their tiny rented domicile and pushed over the second container of lukewarm noodles he had brought back from the tavern. Thrawn took them and ate mechanically. Ezra did the same, but with a little more enjoyment. The noodles, regardless of temperature, were good. The Chaos had something going for it, he decided, with its kaleidoscope of peoples and their cultures, goods, and flavors. The food was mostly delicious. He still wasn’t keen on the ‘chaos’ part. 

Thrawn believed him to be capable of taking them back to the Chiss, doing he had with the purrgil, but with a regular ship’s hyperdrive. Ezra, in turn, thought Thrawn was out of his mind. He could connect with different creatures through the Force. He could disengage locks, little things like that. But a ship? At _lightspeed_? Thrawn was crazy.

Then again, Ezra was still following Thrawn around, so maybe Ezra was a little bit crazy, too. And there was that time they’d helped Hera steer the Ghost to Lira San, so maybe it wasn’t completely impossible. But Ezra wasn’t Kanan. Ezra was barely a Jedi, and for all intents and purposes, he was on his own.

“You took longer than usual to return,” Thrawn said, after completing his meal. He rose from the small table and put the remaining half of the dish into their cramped abode’s conservator so that it wouldn’t spoil.

Ezra nodded. “Someone stopped me. They overheard your conversation with the barkeep.”

That captured Thrawn’s attention. He didn’t speak, but Ezra had managed to understand two of Thrawn’s expressions based on his eyes alone. One, was unbridled fury. That was the one he normally turned on Ezra in the past, and more recently if Ezra managed to prod him enough in the right places to noticeably piss him off. It was actually the less frequent of the two, as of late.

His expression was more like an educator, reminded Ezra of the now faceless, but equally stern drill instructor from his undercover academy days. It was not accompanied by words, but it felt like Thrawn had issued a summons for him to explain.

Vividly. In as much detail as possible.

"They offered-"

"Species?" Thrawn interrupted. "Male, female, or another gender?"

Right, Ezra thought, and for the thousandth time since stranding himself with Thrawn, resolved not to gripe about a mission brief with Hera ever again. "They didn't tell me their species. Humanoid. Probably human? Their face looked like mine, no scales, fur, or facial features that varied beyond normal human limits. I think they were female, but they had a hood covering their head so I couldn't see much more than eyes to chin." Ezra shrugged. "My gut says human. Female. Maybe in her early forties?"

"You just said-"

The human continued over him. "Humans have eye and mouth lines from age." Ezra tapped the outside corner of his eyes and again on his lips. "She was stern but not. It was weird... She definitely wants to get us on her ship."

"'Weird,'" Thrawn repeated, "How? Did she say something strange?"

"No, she acted like a smuggler, I guess. I don't really know. Something just felt off."

Thrawn folded his hands on the table. "She said she would take us to the Ascendancy?"

"Yeah, if we rob someone rich first," Ezra blanched. Were there even rich people here? This planet was a backwater's backwater. "Her price was crazy expensive."

"If the Navigator's Guild will not go that way because of war, any transport will be expensive."

“Wait, your people are at war?” Ezra blinked at him owlishly. Thrawn didn’t comment. "Okay, so your people are at war,” He went with the assumption. “I don't know how long she'll be around. She didn't want to commit to how long she’d be in town when I asked."

"I will talk to them," Thrawn said. "Did you get a name?"

"Yeah," Ezra said, and told him. The reaction was comical. He’d never seen Thrawn fly through surprise, irritation, concern, and then back to pensive determination in the span of several seconds. Clearly, whomever they were, Thrawn knew who this Nightswan was. And that, Ezra reasoned, would either go really good or really bad for them both.

“You are certain?” Thrawn demanded, fingers twitching like he might have grabbed at Ezra if things between them were different.

Ezra was sure to maintain eye contact as he nodded. He'd never really given thought to how their reluctant partnership had progressed. He decided to go straight for the worst possible assumption. “Is that bad?” He asked.

“Until proven otherwise,” Thrawn said gravely, “We must assume that it is.”

\----------

Years serving under Thrawn had taught her never to underestimate an opponent. That was why, when she returned to her ship, she immediately prepared it to be boarded. She left the exterior hatch unlocked. No smuggler would assume any wares to go missing in this tiny, rundown spaceport. There were less than twenty vessels capable of breaking atmo. 

Faro assumed he’d know which one was hers at first glance. He’d come to her, she knew. But the question was who he expected. Would he think her to be some rebel, aware of his history, looking to take him and the kid back to the Rebellion, seeking revenge for one of his victories? Or worse, a deranged Imperial who held him accountable for what he’d done over Lothal, how countless Imperial lives had been lost and all the collateral damage blamed upon him.

And what state would he be in himself, really? Would he be willing to listen to her or would he cast her out and go off on his own? That was something she couldn’t allow to happen. Thrawn had been in the wind long enough to make even the sturdiest beings she knew become unsettled. Disabling the wiring to the hyperdrive and hiding the delicate chip that allowed for jump coordinates to be put into the nav computer within her tunic, she willed herself calm. She would find out what would happen when they stood toe to toe soon enough.

It hadn't been more than four hours when she heard activity outside the hatch. She’d long since wrapped things up inside, run the vessel through a complete power-cycle and gone to wait in the out-of-the-way galley. This ship was barely a freighter by definition, but it got the job done. 

She had considered hiding, waiting them out and hoping for the element of surprise. And by considered, she meant that the thought had crossed her mind and been immediately discredited. She valued her life. So she would remain calm and collected, and stay right where she was.

She doubted she could outsmart her former mentor. So instead, she’d work around the situation and try to change the game. Thrawn was expecting this to be a trap. She would have to make it clear this wasn’t one.

\----------

The Jedi found her first. He raised a blaster at her chest. She expected him to use the Force. He did not.

She raised her eyebrows at him and indicated the holdout blaster in front of her. Her hands were still wrapped around her questis. She set it down on the tiny table, then folded her hands atop it. “I’m alone and unarmed, except for the vibroblade in my right boot,” She told him, swinging her leg out from under the small table so he could see the hilt of the concealed blade in the dim emergency lighting.

“Why’s your ship powered down?” Ezra Bridger asked defensively.

Faro’s eyebrows didn’t lower even a fraction. “I was expecting company and his is an old ship. It’s too loud to hear if someone decides to let themselves in and root around in my things.”

The Jedi stepped close enough to touch, kept his blaster pointed at her chest, retrieved the blaster she’d had on the table and knocked it away. She noticed that he checked the blaster pack to confirm it wouldn’t explode. “Is your name really Nightswan?”

“That’s what I’ve been calling myself out here,” She said. Not a lie, but not the answer to his question.

“You sound Imperial,” He commented. It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t answer it. She hadn’t bothered with the accent. She was their ally and this was not a trap. It was not worth maintaining the rouse.

Thrawn moved through her dilapidated old freighter like a wraith. She didn’t hear his footsteps or see his profile emerge from the shadows of the corridor behind the Jedi. All Faro could see were his eyes, glowing just faintly enough that she couldn’t see his irises. To others it might have been ominous, but her gut kicked with the feeling of safety, instinct saying that was her admiral and he would protect her. She had always honored her instincts and really hoped they were right.

Something sailed over Bridger’s head and landed on the floor beside where she sat. Something white and rumpled. If the situation were lighter, she’d have made some snarky comment about him going through her closet. “You _are_ Imperial,” Ezra pressed.

“I was,” She agreed, then nodded toward Thrawn who loomed behind the younger man. “So was he.”

“Why Nightswan?” Thrawn asked, voice so quiet it took several seconds for her ears to catch up to his words.

Her facial muscles twitched - they must have, she saw how his eyes narrowed on her face - but she schooled her expression into something blank, trying not to make him angrier. “I didn’t think walking up to you in that bar was going to go well,” She said, and swallowed back the reflexive ‘sir’ that wanted to come afterward. “I figured a reference like that gave you some idea of who you might be dealing with.”

The Jedi looked woefully confused. Faro didn’t blame him. She hardly expected Thrawn to be much of a conversationalist when it came to the past. If there wasn’t a relevant lesson to be learned, he definitely seemed more like a ‘plan for the future, but live in the moment’ kind of man.

Thrawn considered her for a long time, longer than she ever had, even when she was new to serving under him and he was trying to assess her strengths and weaknesses. “You’re here to return me to the Ascendancy,” He said.

“Yes, I am. Assuming, of course, that you’re willing.”

He stepped into the galley. It was almost too cramped for both men to be standing together, but Ezra moved to give him enough space. “And my people?” He prompted. Had she not served with him for years, she wouldn’t have recognized the question for how even his tone was.

“They’re at war, yes,” She said. “They already were when Admiral Ar’alani reached out to me.” Really, this would go better as a sit-rep than an interrogation, but she’d let them lead for now. It was safer. It kept her on the ship. Something in her gut screamed at the prospect of Thrawn trying to navigate whatever ruined political situation was going on alone. She highly doubted the Jedi was well-versed in politics, either.

“Who’s Arlayni?”

“ _Ar’alani_ ,” Faro corrected, carefully enunciating the admiral’s name. She looked at the Jedi. “Would you please stop pointing that thing at me?” She indicated his blaster with a roll of her eyes. “I’m a friend.”

Bridger stomped his foot against the deckplate as he exclaimed, “Who probably wants to take us back to the Empire!” 

That made Faro’s lips curl into a sneer. Before she could stop herself she said, “And do what? All of our connections are dead!”

That made Ezra flinch and Thrawn frown pensively. Faro winced. Now wasn’t the time to rehash old Imperial politics. She sighed. “Look, you obviously trust Thrawn to some degree.” She exhaled a mental sigh of relief that she didn’t trip over his name sans title. “I need you to trust me, too. I just want to take him back to his people,” She indicated Thrawn. “If that’s where you’re going too, that’s fine by me. If not, I'll take you back to Syndulla or wherever you need to go."

Thrawn raised an eyebrow at her, no doubt thinking she'd tipped her hand. But a glance at the kid's face said that was the right move. She'd made him pause, made him think.

"You're Karyn Faro," Bridger said. "You were his," He made a non-threatening(ish) gesture with his blaster toward Thrawn, "Second in command."

"I was," She replied, and couldn't help the tiniest bit of pride that leaked into her tone, nor her surprise that he'd been able to recognize her. Was it because Thrawn had told him about her or had Rebel intel been that good?

"Okay," He said, and stepped back. Faro didn't really get the impression she'd won him over, but she'd take the little victory for what it was. He tilted his head to regard Thrawn. "How do you want to handle this?"

Thrawn eyed her, then indicated something with a sweep of his eyes to Bridger.

The kid produced binders.

Faro rolled her eyes and tapped her fingers to the backplate of her questis. "If you insist," She grumbled. "First, perhaps you'd like me to contact Ar'alani?"

"I am fully capable of contacting my admiral."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she held out her wrists. "You would have if you had the means," She pressed. "For the best, though. You don't want to charge in there telling everyone you're alive, considering even backwaters know the Chiss are at war with each other."

Thrawn pinned her with only his gaze while Ezra secured her binders. She rolled her shoulders, making sure she didn't position her arms in a way that would make the mag-lock uncomfortable. "Was it Ronan?" He asked, slipping into the booth across from her and taking the questis from beneath her fingers.

"Sir, I don't think-"

Thrawn’s eyes were hard. He all but hissed, "Tell me what you know."

"It’s nothing but rumors," She said, "And none of it is credible. You need to talk to Ar'alani." She refused to allow herself to sound crazed or desperate, so concern won out.

"So you've said," He said silkily, accessing her device. She watched him for a long moment, no doubt keying in some coded message to tip Ar'alani off to his present situation.

"It'll only go one way," Faro pressed. "You'll be lucky to get an acknowledgement."

She waited for him to confirm her words. It took several minutes but she didn't gloat when he finally looked up.

"If I cannot speak to Ar'alani, you will have to be more forthcoming," Thrawn said, all command tone and urgency.

"I'm not going to speculate on propaganda and rumors."

Watching their exchange with keen eyes, Ezra finally scoffed. "Right, because that wasn't what-"

"Enough." Thrawn didn't typically yell. Well, Faro thought, he didn't yell in anger. He hollered, as Vanto liked to say, when he barked out orders. Now, however, voice was raised and his mouth curled into a sneer. She had heard rumors of Thrawn’s temper, of insensitive, incompetent officers hauled up by their collars to meet his gaze.

It was nearly terrifying, she thought. But, she also had to admit that it worked. The Jedi stayed quiet.

"You left the Empire," Thrawn began, and she was surprised he changed tracks, his voice almost soothing by comparison to his previous exclamation. "Why?"

"Because he," She indicated Ezra with a flick of her bound wrists and both index fingers, "And his rebels destroyed everything we worked toward-" When Ezra started to interject, Thrawn waved him off. The Jedi resorted to glaring petulantly. They clearly had some kind of understanding, Faro thought. "And our people were just written off as the cost of… what?" She turned to the Jedi. "Look, I can accept defeat, even if it was because Pryce fucked us."

"As can I," Thrawn conceded. "Why not join the Rebellion?"

"Because our petty war doesn't matter," Faro insisted simply, pushing, "I'm guessing to you it never really did. And if you had thought the rebels would be of any use to the Ascendancy, you would have defected."

To the Jedi's shock, Thrawn didn't deny it.

"So?"

"The truth, if you please."

"Fine. I can't save my people from themselves," She insisted, pleadingly earnest, "But I thought I might be able to help yours defeat the Grysks. That’s the greater evil at work here, and we both know it."

It took a moment, but Thrawn nodded. "I believe you, Karyn Faro."

"Just Faro is fine," She insisted, flicking her eyes to Bridger. "That goes for you, too."

"You will understand if I do not remove the binders until I finish exploring the ship?" Thrawn asked, after Ezra refrained from answering her.

"Begrudgingly?” She sighed. “Yes." She leaned back against the booth’s backrest. "Don't freak out over the hyperdrive. I disabled it on the off chance you decided to stage a mutiny."

Thrawn held out his hand, no doubt aware of her method. She’d heard him talk about doing the same, after all, on some borderline unsanctioned mission.

"Nope," She said. "You can have it back when the binders come off. Unless you want to get handsy."

The Jedi flushed and immediately started grumbling.

Thrawn scoffed at the kid's reaction. "I do not. I agree to your terms, Faro."

She rolled her eyes. Yes, because so long as nobody fired their blasters it was a peaceful negotiation in Thrawn’s book. "Great. You two get to combing through my stuff. I'll wait."


	4. Chapter 4

Jump-by-jump travel had once been strange to Faro, but the novelty quickly wore away. The same went for the Chaos itself. Dying stars and dazzling nebulae were certainly spectacles to behold, but spacefaring through it all was incredibly dangerous. Solar flares seemed to constantly alter her trajectories on the way out here, but travelling to the outskirts of Ascendancy space would be far worse.

It would take time. They would have to cut through obscure, perilous systems, and even then the unpredictable fluctuations (in addition to the phenomenon the nav computer could predict) made her estimations regarding the length of each jump and the fuel and time they’d need over all just that - an estimate.

Faro didn’t mind being in space, nor being confined to a smaller vessel. She could focus on personal fitness, maybe even read a holonovel, or even study the countless Cheunh primers she’d been sent by Ar’alani. No doubt she'd need to share those with the Jedi in the coming days. If he was sporting, they could probably practice with each other. Their current alliance was awkward, but the kid didn't seem to want to harm her. She got the feeling that Thrawn had won him over to some extent. 

For a man with very little political know-how, Thrawn sure had a way of making allies. For all the things it could have come down to… Only Thrawn could have somehow managed to sway both a Clone War vet and a would-be Jedi into even a temporary truce. If not for him, she probably would have ended or been ended by the kid by now. The thought made her shake her head. 

"What is it?" Thrawn asked her. He sat in the co-pilot's seat, staring out at the star lines. They hadn't spoken in hours.

"What ifs," She admitted. "Nothing important."

The silence between them was more of an ambient rumble. The ship's aging hyperdrive made the whole vessel hum with it. Apparently, it helped the Jedi sleep, because he'd laid claim to one of the cabins. Faro would take that for what it was. She couldn’t deny that the both of them looked like they’d been working themselves half to death. Not that she was an expert on Bridger despite her knowledge of his dossier. 

However, she did know at least a little about Thrawn. He’d lost weight and his hair was too long to be slicked back, parting naturally down the middle. She wasn’t sure if that was a personal choice or a lack of access to the necessary grooming tools, but it was a strange thing to see on her previously meticulous former commander. It made him look more alien than she'd ever seen him, and yet still somehow so regal.

“Humor me,” He said, after a lengthy pause.

Humor him? She cocked her head, giving him a weird look. “Really?” He didn’t answer her, so she sighed and got to talking. “I was just wondering how you can make allies out of enemies but you, ah," Well, there was no easy way to point out someone else's ineptitudes, least of all someone like Thrawn, but she tried to stiffen the blow, "Never quite grasped the finer points of politics.”

He huffed. She tried to keep her shock from her face. Their relationship had always been strictly professional, and he’d been nothing but after determining her to be truthful about her motives. “I understand the art of tactics,” He said. “Strategy, particularly when it comes to military endeavors is elementary. Politics has always been my weakness.”

It was still refreshing to hear him say it. Not that she was happy he wasn't perfect - that had been much earlier in their time together - but she appreciated that someone like him who had climbed so high didn't see themself as being infallible like so many of their (now former) colleagues and superiors. Still, she had to make her point, explain it with the situation at hand.

“I know Thrawn, but for all you know the kid could have an alternative agenda. You can’t deny that there could be-”

“There isn’t,” Thrawn said. “He is Jedi. It is not his way.”

“How can you be so sure? I mean no offense-”

“He could have left me to die, and he did not.” Thrawn looked out at the coldness of space. “Whatever his purpose is in following me back to the Ascendancy, he does not know it yet. He believes he will know when he finds it.”

“And you trust him?”

“Enough to believe he will not harm us unless we give him reason to.” He cast his gaze to his left, taking in her profile. Blinked, slowly. She probably wouldn’t get him this open and receptive to her questions anytime soon, much less to acknowledge that she was worried about him and his lack of attention to his own well-being.

“So… why are you still up? It’s been days,” She said, fully aware that he had not taken time to rest, not even to doze in one of the cockpit’s crew chairs. “We’re as safe as we can be.”

He inclined his head. “Your concern is noted.”

“If it’s me you don't-”

“It is not.” He looked away again, pensive and brooding. 

Great, she thought to herself. Good Job, Faro.

She had always had difficulty navigating their exchanges when he got like this. In the early days, there had been Vanto to help mediate. In their later days, Thrawn had come to know (and dare she say appreciate) their crew, to care for them in his own way. He'd been closed off after Vanto left, like he'd been expecting an attack on all sides. She had always assumed it was because he had figured out the game on some level. She knew better now.

Towards the end, she got the feeling that what had happened had been dictated by Pryce and ultimately Tarkin. It had been an ugly, ugly food chain. Military leaders charged with keeping the peace ending up the warhounds of some governor and their schemes. Or worse, the opposite.

"You have heard the rumors," Thrawn said, facing the viewport.

"I have," She agreed slowly. She had known he would be upset about the civil war, finding out how he had. And even worse, the inability to uncover the truth must be eating at him. "I know most news sources aren't incredibly reliable," She offered, "But my questis-"

"I have already done so," He said quietly. She watched him produce the handheld device from beside his chair. There were too many tabs open on the browsing service to count, the different languages and media outlets that vastly outnumbered the singular Imperial source she was used to. She wondered how many of them he’d read, scouring them for any sort of information pathway.

"Ah." Well, that would explain why she hadn't gotten it back yet. And really, who was she kidding? Maybe he really had combed the ship for those eight hours after their first encounter, but more likely than not he was confirming things via her "borrowed" technology.

He hadn’t liked what he had found. How could he, really. She’d known what those articles said and, even if they were wildly false, there was something in them that once resembled a truth. And being Thrawn, who knew he wasn't capable of truly determining the political fallout, she couldn't imagine being in his shoes.

When he didn’t continue, she sighed. She was used to him being way more take-charge, even if he didn't entirely have his bearings in a situation. His adaptability was legendary. He had a tendency to lead a conversation, to push and prod until he saw whatever connections completed his plans. This was borderline sulky and ultimately it bothered her to see him so uncertain. “So should I address the bantha in the room or-?”

He blinked at her. She gave him a wan smile.

“What they’re saying isn’t true. You know Vanto would _never_ -”

Coolly, Thrawn interjected, “Your proof?”

She hoped she didn't give away how surprised she was at his cutting tone. This was Vanto they were talking about. “For one, I don’t think Admiral Ar’alani would let him out of her sight long enough to incite a war. I think he’s a convenient scapegoat. Kind of like a certain alien grand admiral I used to serve under.” Thrawn didn’t smile, but she saw his lips quirk. Better, Faro thought. That’s a start.

He leaned against the high seatback with surprisingly loose posture. She noticed his eyes were dim, but more severe. She could finally see his exhaustion. “The last time I saw her, Admiral Ar’alani spoke fleetingly of unrest within the Ascendancy.”

“Well, I don’t imagine it came from out of nowhere,” Faro said. “The rumors you won’t find on my questis, that I intercepted from badly encrypted transmissions in Chiss space suggest it had something to do with the navigators.”

Thrawn’s expression darkened. “Of course,” He said, pensive even as he motioned for her to continue.

“The war - they call it something else, I don’t know the word - was supposedly started by a terrorist attack on the Chiss homeworld,” She began. “From what I heard, it killed a lot of important people - and navigators. Apparently, Vanto was there to present something to the Syndicure?” She sounded unsure. “The details vary from source to source, but the takeaways suggest that Vanto was responsible for the bombing.” She looked at him imploringly. “They also say he escaped after, but-”

“What possible motivation could he have to do such a thing?”

Faro shrugged, answering what was likely a rhetorical question. “That’s just it,” She said. “He wouldn’t. Did he have enemies, last time you saw him?”

Thrawn gave a subtle shake of his head, barely a gesture at all. “Not that I was made aware of,” He said gravely. “He was working on research for Admiral Ar’alani. Do you know why the Syndicure summoned him?”

“No. Ar’alani was not forthcoming when we spoke and he hasn’t made contact with me.” Unable to expand further, she asked tentatively, “It had something to do with the navigators though, didn’t it?” Her voice was soft, as if perhaps that was a methodology that would convince his answers to be more forthcoming. 

"I suspect," Thrawn began, but trailed off, his fingers fanning over his jaw and chin. It was a regal move though she had trouble reconciling it with his long, almost shoulder length hair.

His silent reflection gave her room to consider her own thoughts. She watched him for a moment - he didn't seem to notice - and couldn't help but feel a little bit of sympathy toward him. He really did look exhausted. No doubt he was, and would have been even if it were the status quo and things had been fine back in the Ascendancy.

He really had had a rough couple years.

She'd read the reports back in the Empire, and she'd even been to Lothal after her defection, all in the pursuit of answers. All she'd gotten was a very vague trajectory and the sense that if these people could rebel so completely the Empire might actually have trouble on their hands. The rest she already knew, and had long since reported to Admiral Ar'alani. The damages, how Thrawn had brought his flagship to bear upon a civilian center.

And yet, the Jedi - the boy, Ezra Bridger - was loyal to Thrawn. Maybe not in the same way she herself was loyal to the Chiss, but loyal enough. Thrawn had been, she'd thought, immensely loyal to his crew. Had trusted them, and been given their trust in return. It had been that way with Vanto, who had been all easy, exasperated smiles and kind understanding words when they hadn't yet understood their new admiral.

Would Vanto know how to get through to him now? And how would _he_ feel about Thrawn’s actions over Lothal? Would he hold the Chiss responsible or would he understand that it was the cost of war?

She had never known - no one had, aboard the ISD _Chimaera_ \- if they'd been friends. There was speculation, maybe Vanto was kept in his position against his will, or - and the crew had loved speculating about this specifically - maybe they were secret lovers. By the time Faro had overcome her own distrust of Vanto, all he'd had to say on the subject was that he knew that rumors existed, and the crew ought to keep it out of the ears of their admiral. It wasn't them he had ever been concerned about. The bridge crew's light-hearted ribbing after hours was nothing in comparison to what Eli faced in certain high-ranking Moffs.

They were strangely compatible. Thrawn, the willing mentor: unendingly patient for any who recognized what they could learn, and Vanto, the diligent pupil who was slowly coming into his own. She wondered what Eli Vanto had been like in the beginning. From what she had heard, she would have been incredibly underwhelmed. The man himself was quick to acknowledge that Thrawn played a pivotal role in his learning. He’d admitted to Faro and many others that his intended career path would have seen him become some low-level supply officer. He spoke of it like it was a joke, some fleeting thought.

But those in that inner circle, who had known him reasonably well (as she hoped she had) could tell he struggled with his own self-confidence, that it had probably taken intervention to coax it out of him. A patient, understanding touch. No, Faro had no idea if Eli Vanto had feelings for Thrawn beyond the admiration and respect due a truly influential superior. That was how she had come to feel for Thrawn, perhaps Vanto felt the same.

Except…

Eli Vanto had left the Empire. Had gone to the Chiss Ascendancy and wore their colors. Had been under extreme suspicion by Ronan… And a lieutenant, not a respected ambassador.

"Was his mission," She spoke aloud, surprising herself. She cursed herself internally when she realized that Thrawn was looking at her, waiting for her to continue. "Was it sanctioned?"

Thrawn inclined his head. "Hardly."

"So you asked him and he went," She summarized.. "Did he know that you-" She broke off.

"That I was a traitor to the Empire?" He finished for her. She nodded, surprised that he took it there, no hesitation. "Not in such specific terms. But I did not view my service to the Empire as treasonous. Our goals should have ultimately been the same."

Faro resisted the urge to sigh. There was that lack of political savvy, yet again. "In an ideal galaxy," She supposed.

"It is admittedly less than ideal when your emperor is a Sith Lord,” Thrawn added.

Faro did a double take, head moving so fast without her conscious input that she suspected she had just given herself whiplash. "What? You," She stuttered. "You can't be serious."

"He wanted to capture or kill Ezra Bridger," Thrawn informed her. "According to Bridger, there was a Jedi temple on Lothal that possessed some kind of doorway he said could transcend time and space."

"That's impossible," Faro said.

"Bridger had just communed with purrgil to destroy the Seventh Fleet and transport us through hyperspace. I was inclined to believe him." He considered her. "Consider also: Anakin Skywalker, or, as you know him now - Darth Vader." He paused, then added, "It is my belief that he - Emperor Palpatine - orchestrated everything."

It made sense. There was just something about the Emperor. Something that Thrawn had always shielded them against, had always gone on to deal with their ruler alone. And yet, she couldn't come to terms with it... The logic, while sound, also meant so much of what she'd done, her career - the Clone War and even the Empire - was based on lies. She put her head in her hands and focused on taking deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" Thrawn asked.

She shook her head, unable to make words come. To her surprise, he rose from the seat he’d been occupying and disappeared through the hatch. There was only the rumble of the engine, and she'd mostly composed herself by the time he returned, focusing entirely on steady, even breaths.

"It was not my intent to upset you," He said, offering her a mug. The ship had a hodge-podge collection of dishes, and she noticed he'd given her the nicest one. More than that, it wasn't water, like she'd been expecting. "I knew you served in the Clone War. My statements, however honest, must have been jarring."

"I know, sir," She said, ignoring her use of the old honorific, and braced herself with the liquor he'd given her. She realized he too had a cup in his hands. "I didn't know you drank," She said.

"It is not something I do often," He supposed, considering the liquor, "But some concessions can be made." He gestured to her with his own chipped mug and drank smoothly. He didn't flinch at the bite of it.

After another moment, she spoke. Her voice felt about as raw as she did. "You knew he was a Sith." 

"Not initially, but yes. It was relatively easy to infer."

She licked her lips, an old nervous tic that only ever came out when she was this unsettled. "I never worked with the Jedi," She said. "Not directly. I served aboard a ship that housed a master and apprentice. They were rarely aboard." If her anecdote bothered him, he didn't say. Perhaps he knew her volatility suggested she'd either speak frantic and dazed like this or that she'd scream at him. And part of her wanted to scream, but...

She sighed, feeling wound and wrung out all at once. Thrawn would let her scream at him, she thought. He was like that. He’d impassively take it as if her words had no impact and it wouldn't make her feel better in the slightest. She would have to process this perspective change on her own. And yet, "Why did you tell me?"

"I served the Empire as I would have the Chiss Ascendancy. The Emperor was, ultimately, my commander." He looked away. "I had hoped that while perhaps not entirely benevolent, he would at least value the lives of those under his rule. Even if it were only the humans."

Her frown deepened, Faro sensing the shift in his tone before it happened. 

"Had that been the case," Thrawn said grimly, "The history, for my intents and purposes, would be irrelevant, no matter how alarming."

Still, he hadn't answered her question. He'd gotten closer to answering, though, and she had learned patience long ago. 

"I am not so blind to political machinations that I did not see the writing on the wall, so to speak," He added when she remained silent, and it was a segue she wasn't expecting. He held her bewildered gaze. "The Emperor knew I was in contact with the Chiss military. I did not hide that, though some of the finer details may have gone unmentioned." He paused, considering. "He made it clear that he would be recalling me to Coruscant after the Lothal insurgents were dealt with."

Thrawn said it with the sort of finality that lifted her from her haze. "You think he was going to kill you?" She asked incredulously.

"Hardly," Thrawn said back. "The Emperor would far rather see someone like myself break."

"You wouldn't," She said, startling herself with how defensive she was. "You-"

"I honestly do not know," He offered somberly. “I did not wish to find out. I had hoped that perhaps a victory over Lothal would soften the blow. Then Governor Pryce-” He broke off and she could feel the heat of his still simmering anger like a brand. “I had no feasible options other than to try and salvage what was left. It was too late to turn back from that path.”

“And then Bridger,” She said.

A nod. “Indeed. Bridger said that the Emperor offered him the dead. His family.”

“Can someone do that?”

“Consider again-”

“I know, I know. Sith Lord. Jedi. Whatever the kid did to control the Purrgil,” She pushed. It was almost familiar, her pressing the envelope with banter, but more exasperated than anything. There was nowhere near enough liquor left in her mug - or aboard the ship for that matter - to make processing this any easier. “I’ll adjust and adapt. I think.”

It wasn’t a smile, but his expression eased, somewhat. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

His eyes darkened again, and he looked out the viewport at the swirling abyss of hyperspace. She couldn’t help but wonder at what he wasn’t saying.


	5. Chapter 5

There were always concessions to be made, Eli thought. He was no stranger to compromise, nor to losing one battle for sake of winning the greater war. It became far more difficult, however, when everything was a concession with no larger victory to show for it. Especially for the troops who didn't have the bigger picture. He understood and empathized with their frustration more than they would ever know.

For a moment, Eli allowed himself to think of Nightswan. Both Nightswan and Thrawn had traded off with countless victories one way or the other over many years. Neither side had stopped fighting. Slowly but surely, Nightswan had built a network, gained control of a would-be rebellion.

A part of him still wondered what Thrawn would have done with the man if Pryce hadn't blown Nightswan and his people to smithereens (and he'd maintain that it had been her until his dying breath). Nightswan would probably be a whole lot more useful than he currently was.

Although… Nightswan had been smart, but not in all the ways Eli was. Eli understood now that there were different shades to intelligence. Nightswan's hypothetical path would have looked a hell of a lot different than this one. And besides, Eli was the one still alive and kicking, despite everything. He really shouldn't be so self-flagellating. 

Eli stepped into the tiny shower stall his quarters afforded him, took an economical five minutes to clean up and rinse off, and fifteen minutes total found him face to face with his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't a bad reflection, he supposed, flexing his fingers as he smoothed a wrinkle out of his uniform. He’d been injured in the initial attack - the decisive action that sent their people careening into civil war. A head injury, broken bones… it was nothing compared to the bigger picture. And thanks to good medicine - and a very healthy supply of bacta - he had made a full recovery. He knew who he had to thank for that, and just how lucky he was.

A sharp rap on his suite’s door shook him from his thoughts. “E- _LI_!” 

Eli rolled his eyes, mock-exasperated. “Un-hee,” He called back playfully, palming the door toggle only to find himself face to face with Admiral Ar’alani. He jumped back, startled. 

She inclined her head and stepped past him, through the threshold of his living space. Behind her, Un’hee waited for her to pass Eli completely before barrelling into him, headbutting him in the stomach as she threw her arms around him. He embraced the girl as the Admiral asked briskly, “Is your comm not working?”

Flushing, he gestured at the single desk and chairs that occupied what might have been a living space if he were a civilian. “I’m sure I have one that works, err, somewhere,” He finished lamely. “Mine was… compromised, last mission. Hadn’t had time to get it back, but my questis-”

Un’hee giggled, extricating herself from Eli’s embrace to pluck the broken device from atop his haphazardly discarded combat armor in the vicinity of the kitchenette. “Well, it looks like you might be getting our messages,” She said, toggling the flickering screen. It looked as though it had been bludgeoned by something after being dropped from an extreme height.

“Did you step on it?” Ar’alani asked dubiously, examining it.

“Me? No. One of the warriors might have,” Eli shrugged. “We were a bit more concerned with evacuation than my datapad.”

“Yes, well you could have told someone,” She said.

“I told Tekhe,” He promised. “She already yelled at me plenty,” He held his hands out in a pleading gesture. “She said a new comm and a questis would be waiting for me at the war council meeting in an hour-” Ar’alani narrowed her eyes and Eli winced. Not an hour then. “You moved the meeting?”

“I moved the meeting,” She agreed. “Thirty minutes. Come with me if you’d like caf.”

He stiffened, falling back on formality. He wouldn’t make it through that meeting without it. Well - he would, but it would be significantly more difficult. “Yes, ma’am.” 

She shook her head, tutting in disapproval. “Un’hee, see if you can locate Tekhe and procure Eli’s devices for him. Meet us in the mess when you do. He should be briefed,” She gave him a fierce glare, “ _Before_ we’re in the ready room.”

Un'hee looked to Eli. He gave her a small nod and a warm smile. "It would be a huge help."

"I guess," The navigator supposed aloud. "But only if I can come with you to the meeting."

"Un'hee," He said, taking a knee before her. He put both his hands on her shoulders. "How about you study while we're in the meeting, and afterward I come get you for lunch, just the two of us?"

It was a tempting offer, Eli knew, but the little girl was stubborn. Once Un’hee finally acquiesced, taking Eli’s broken devices and promising to meet them shortly, Eli looked to his admiral.

"She has been worse than usual lately," Ar'alani commented, voice careful. "I believe she is having dreams again." 

"Ah. Has she said-"

Ar'alani hummed non-committally. "I do not know, and she would not say. See if she will tell you about it. It is always worse when you are away."

Eli couldn't help but feel guilty about that. He'd been gone for more than a week, only returning for hours at a time before departing again. He did his best to make time for her, but it was hardly ideal. “Operations are secure enough that they should be able to manage drops on their own from now on,” He said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take her for the night, so long as nothing comes up.”

The admiral gave no argument. He thought back to before when Un'hee had kicked and screamed for him, afraid of her caretakers while those caretakers were equally horrified that she dared only to trust their lone human officer more than an experienced momish. So much had changed. Not all of it was for the better, but he tried to focus on the positives.

“So,” He began as they exited his suite, “What do we need to discuss? You knew about the questis malfunction."

"I did." The admiral's lips thinned and Eli watched as she shifted gears. "I received a missive this morning," She said as she handed him her own device. It had been resting between her arm and flank, and was warm to the touch because of it. "Read it."

Eli scanned it. "Faro's frequency," He mused more to himself than anything, then his head shot up. "But not Faro. This-” He paused, eyes darting across the screen, rereading the message. Excitement was palpable in his voice. “This is Thrawn," He said. "She did it."

"So it would seem," Ar'alani said blandly. "They have a long way to travel. We can barely look after ourselves, much less send someone to collect them. But I believe we can be _,_ ” She paused, urging him sternly, “ _Cautiously_ optimistic."

He wasn’t fooled. “I told you he’d find his way back,” He told her, smiling for them both. “Don’t lose hope, admiral.”

“I will not,” She said with conviction. “This remains between us alone.” She ignored his deadpan expression, wordlessly asking her who she thought he was going to tell. If Un’hee found out, the entire ship would know in less than a quarter-hour. He wasn’t that dense. “Everything must remain business as usual.” He waited for her to enter the dining hall first before following behind her. “We have work to do.”

\----------

Ezra woke quickly, but stared up at the ceiling of his quarters, slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes. His dream was elusive, the details already fading beyond his recollection. He took stock of his surroundings, like always. This wasn't like the _Ghost_ , didn't have the familiar smell of _home_ and or feel _safe_ or remind him of _family_ , but it was okay enough. Better than anything he and Thrawn had managed to use as shelter so far. Not that he was complaining about any of that, either. Being a kid on the streets of Lothal alone was far worse than being on a small freighter with Thrawn (who he mostly trusted not to space him without good reason) and his former first officer (turned informant for the Chiss military? He'd have to work on the specifics). 

He rolled to the edge of his claimed berth and shoved his feet into his boots as quietly as possible. He tied them messily in the dark, then took the three steps it took to make it to the door and toggled the manual release. A look back revealed a pair of glowing red eyes, Thrawn pushing himself up on his elbows. Thrawn always woke when Ezra left, just like Ezra always woke when Thrawn came and went himself. The Chiss never got angry on those rare occasions that Ezra woke him. Ezra gathered that the Chiss needed only to confirm that everything was alright. It was probably some admiral-sense or another, some remnant of being responsible for so many people...

"Go back to sleep," Ezra murmured, barely audible, an echo of Thrawn's own night and morning reminders. "Everything's fine."

And like Ezra usually did, the Chiss blinked once more in a sort of acknowledgement and closed his eyes. Neither of them could find it within themselves to apologize for their intrusion on the other’s rest, and that suited their overall arrangement well enough. 

He let himself into the galley, and had almost finished making his lone cup of instant caf when he heard movement behind him. He continued what he was doing, pouring the hot water he’d boiled atop the portable burner over the blackish grounds. Every move was slow, calculated. He’d never liked tea, which was not very Jedi-like. Then again, his master hadn’t particularly liked tea either. It was soothing to a degree, but Kanan had never argued against him drinking caf (even when Hera claimed he was way too young to be such an addict). He pushed down that pang of loss and mutual understanding. He could meditate on it later, if he wanted. He probably should, just to face it. Those feelings always tended to linger.

“There’s cream in the conservator if you want it,” Faro commented mildly, lingering.

He grunted and turned toward her, ignoring the refrigeration unit entirely. “I drink it black,” He offered instead, hoping that ended their conversation. 

It didn’t. “Out of necessity or preference?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Probably both,” He grunted, and took a sip. It was horrible. Strong and dark, bitter enough to resurrect the dead, and just what he needed. He took another.

“Fair.” Faro wasn’t any taller than he was. She was built like most military officers he’d encountered: lean but not skinny, mostly stern features with only hints of emotions allowed through. She had space-fair skin, brown eyes and hair that she kept pulled back in a rarely messy bun at the nape of her neck.

She made conversation in that awkward way someone who had nothing in common with him would. He got the feeling she meant well, but it was more annoying than anything, and he wasn’t just going to make friends with her. He hadn’t exactly made friends with Thrawn either, and they’d been relying on each other for long enough now.

“Thrawn’s still asleep in there, right?”

Ezra nodded.

She gave him an answering one, her lips barely quirking in a smile. “Good.” Only now did he realize there were two mugs in her hands. One she dumped something amber from, but the other was already empty. “Figured he was tired if he forgot his drink,” She said, indicating the cup she’d dumped down the drain. “He was always a bit of a neat-freak.”

“Go figure,” Ezra said sarcastically, sipping at his caf some more. Then, “I noticed.” A moment later, he breathed into the silence, awkwardly, “He’s an interesting guy.”

“He is,” Faro commented. She slipped a pouch of pre-filtered water from the conservator and made herself at home in the small booth. She looked down at it sharply before lifting her eyes to his face. “Thank you for not killing him.”

Ezra shrugged. “It is as the Force wills it,” He tried to say sagely, but he could never make it sound infuriatingly wise like his master had. “And all that.”

“I suppose so,” Faro said, but her voice took on a different tone. She squeezed the water container so tightly that, for a moment, Ezra thought it would burst. Then she let it go entirely and looked away.

“He’s, uh, not so bad, I guess,” Ezra said, then winced at how lame his words were. “I mean, obviously we’ve travelled together this long-”

“You have,” Faro agreed. “And he’s letting you come back with us.”

“I mean, _technically_ ,” Ezra drawled, shrugging with his arms extended for effect, “ _We’re_ allowing _you_ to come back with us.”

“You’re not funny, Jedi.”

“I’m not trying to be, Faro. And it’s Ezra. Or Bridger, take your pick. I’m a person, the same as you.” Another sip of coffee and a more serious expression followed his words. He grumbled mentally. Being around Imps all the time was a drag, but it was even worse when they were super serious types like Thrawn and Faro were. At least the stormtroopers had somewhat interesting conversations from time to time. “Whatever’s going on with him, and his people-” She went to speak and he held out a hand. “I’m not going to do anything to mess it up on purpose. Jedi are supposed to help people,” Ezra said. “And maybe they’re the ones I’m supposed to be helping.”

She shook her head. “Sounds noble,” She supposed. “But what do you think you’ll actually be able to do? You don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Neither do the two of you. I guess we’ll all find out when we get there,” He said, raising his eyebrows as if to challenge her.

“Yeah, kid,” She replied, and Ezra tried and failed not to bristle. Yes, he was young, but all things considered, he was hardly a child. He really hated it when people - who weren’t his people - called him one. His distractedness led him to miss the heaviness of her tone as she added, “I guess we will.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Leave him,” Thrawn said, gesturing Faro to the co-pilot’s seat.

“He’s… floating,” Faro said dubiously from the hatchway.

The Chiss ignored him. “It is supposedly an advanced form of meditation.”

She dropped into the indicated seat, wordlessly checking the indicator panels within reach. They had dropped out of hyperspace a few hours earlier, reoriented and plotted the next jump. She’d slept through it, unlike the first few legs of their journey when they had all been present, regardless of the shifts they’d fallen into. She still wasn’t entirely thrilled about the Jedi having his own shift, but the kid seemed to understand that trust was something earned through action. When he wasn’t acting his age, being argumentative and temperamental, Faro could admit to herself that he was nearly tolerable. She wasn't the only one.

“And the only time he’s quiet,” The Chiss added softly.

“I heard that,” Bridger said. He was still floating, and his voice was sharp, a contrast to the sleepy-looking serenity he seemed to exude.

Thrawn didn't quite smirk, but he didn't smile, either. Faro was not used to Thrawn ribbing someone. Nor was she used to Thrawn seemingly understanding young people. Not that they tended to come into contact with young people on an ISD, but still.

Ezra floated a water pouch from between herself and Thrawn to his side. She goggled at him.

"What?" He asked, feigning innocence. "I'm just practicing."

Faro rolled her eyes. "Showoff."

"Meditation is important," He stressed. "So is practicing Force manipulation."

"Next you'll be waving your hand and forcing me to-"

He waved his hand in a sarcastic rendition of a classic Jedi mind trick. "Yeah, maybe if you were some stormtrooper nobody," He supposed, and Faro flinched, obviously slighted.

"Fighting among ourselves is counter productive," Thrawn told them both, glancing between them to make it clear he would not be taking a side. The cockpit returned to hostile silence.

She didn't look back until Bridger had exhaled so quietly she almost thought he'd fallen asleep. He hadn't. Instead, he was meditating - but sitting on the floor this time. Thrawn didn't bother with him, instead looking at something on Faro's former device. She had opted to pick something newer for herself at their first stop, nearly a week ago. Thrawn had confirmed it could be modified for military or personal use if need be, and had made a copy of the data on her original questis once they encrypted it. 

When she powered up the new device, she paused, do doubt surprised to see additional items waiting for her. "Is this Cheunh?" She asked.

Thrawn had been studying a report of some kind with interest, glowing eyes flicking across the screen rapidly. Like her, he had much to study prior to their arrival. On a delay, he lifted his eyes and cast them in her direction. "You should work on your translation abilities." Louder, he added, "You will not need complete fluency, however some knowledge will be helpful. My people are at war. There will be significantly less time to teach and errors will likely have fatal consequences."

"I'm sure," She said. "I believe everything Vanto used is on there. Maybe he," She gestured to Bridger-

"Vanto? Who's that?" He asked from afar. Then, "Oh. I know most of that," The Jedi said, jolting her with his proximity. He was now standing directly behind them, looking over her shoulder at her new datapad. Thrawn quirked a single eyebrow in a question. No doubt he had seen her flinch.

Thrawn turned, considering. "He learns better through more… interactive methods."

"Yay," Ezra said. "More 'conversations,'" He quoted.

"A reminder that you volunteered," Faro interjected tersely. "You don’t have to-"

Ezra said something to Thrawn. In Cheunh, the little bastard. She caught the beginning of the sentence, then had been effectively cut from the conversation. She did notice that the kid seemed shaky, though, as if he’d only just learned the words. Maybe he had.

Thrawn's reply in the Chiss language was purposefully slower, but just as stern as it was when he was giving an order. The Jedi answered, and somehow his attitude perfectly merged with the sibilant tones. Thrawn spoke again, and it was clear he had made an irrefutable, but easy to understand point.

The Jedi sighed. Then in Basic, he said, "He says we should start practicing together. Something about teaching going hand in hand with learning. At least, I think that was the metaphor."

Thrawn didn't answer, going back to his report. The kid's frustrated huff didn't go any further than that, to Faro's great surprise. "I'll be in the galley," He said to no one in particular and saw himself out.

"Is that how to diffuse a Jedi?" She asked quietly in the admittedly more peaceful silence that followed. 

The Chiss didn't look up. "That is how to diffuse an adolescent," He said.

"I never saw you as the paternal type. A teacher, sure, but not," She gestured. “No offense.”

Thrawn did not disagree. "Hardly," He said. "Consider the navigators. They are not so unlike Ezra Bridger. I suspect it is difficult to be understood when one interprets the world around them much differently than their peers." His tone never wavered, never gave the slightest indication that such a statement might apply to himself, too. That did not stop Faro, who felt she knew him reasonably well and had been changed by his presence in her life, from making the connection. He would never offer more than that, and she was just shy of being impolite enough to ask.

\----------

The bridge was quiet, but charged in that way that always preceded a critical op.

Stealth was imperative. Quick in, quick out. Their resources were not impressive, but they had enough to get by, and enough covert support to keep them spacefaring without grievous issues. Ar'alani waited in her command chair on the bridge. Their fighters - sleek, small vessels with reptilian-inspired curves and gleaming metallic-seeming hulls that allowed them to avoid notice when entering a planet's atmosphere - scrambled and regrouped according to plan. Unseen but vividly depicted on the board was a well-shielded transport.

They had had time to determine their needs and improve upon weaker, failing models. This transport was sturdy, but built for speed and maneuverability. Tekhe had outdone herself on this iteration, Ar'alani knew, casting a glance to the other woman at her station. Everything about Tekhe screamed non-military, from her short, edgy hair to the way she held herself. 

In another life, Ar'alani would be ordering the woman from her bridge for lack of decorum - at least, she knew she absolutely would have when Tehke finally spoke - but times had changed. There were very few left from before. So many had answered their family's call in the months after the Divide. Now, in their places were untested, inexperienced warriors. They had little margin for error. Success was not optional. For many of them, only death awaited if they failed.

The admiral had been forced to promote those she would have never considered for leadership roles and those who were not ready. She had been forced to make moves and consolidate positions in order to keep her flagship and fleet functional with far less staff than was optimal. There were individuals on her bridge who had never stepped foot in a military academy, and those, like Tehke, who had honed their craft by less than savory means. Even the older navigators were required to assist beyond the usual scope of their duty. 

It was hard not to feel anger each and every moment, but Ar'alani managed. 

"Are the fighters in position?"

"Confirmed," Eli answered her. He stood on the command walk, a hologram projected in front of him, feeding him different streams of data. It was another of Tekhe’s rather impressive upgrades. Ar’alani resisted the urge to bristle at the advancements that had been withheld from the military and instead fought over by the families. "Ready to begin their run."

She nodded to him. "Full combat readiness in five seconds," She ordered her bridge crew.

It took eight, and she growled when her first officer confirmed. The ship should have - could have - been ready in three. They needed more allies. Competent ones, she thought vehemently. Mentally, she shook it off. It mattered not. They would make due with what they had. Her crew was diligent and improving. She had to be positive. 

Turning her head to Eli, she waved her hand regally. "General," She said, "As you please."

When it was over, they met the returning troops in the hangar.

There would be no celebration. They had achieved their goal, yes, but it had come at a cost. The team of insurgents they had sent suffered many casualties. In war, casualties were inevitable, but they did not have enough warriors to afford suffering even one.

Eli stood with Un'hee all but surgically attached to his left side, greeting all those who emerged from the damaged transport. He had suggested that Tehke be commended for her concealment tech on the vessel, because it was the only thing that had saved it and the occupants hidden inside. Only half their fighters had returned from this engagement. 

Ar’alani could see the weight of their failure on Eli’s shoulders. He took each loss personally. As he should, she knew, though Un’hee’s presence at his side, trying to help bear that weight, always astounded her. It should not. Un’hee had suffered at the hands of their true enemy. She had no time for families or their squabbles. She had no love for them, either.

She had made it known, too. Ar’alani thought of that moment often, sitting in her reflection chair, unable to bring herself to look at her memory wall. Had that moment been the true catalyst? She wondered. Was the Ascendancy at war because a little girl with failing Sight had asked to join a family that was not Chiss at all?

And as she had many times before, she shook herself out of it. No. It was not. The Ascendancy warred with itself because it was selfish. Tensions had been building long before Navigator Un’hee had asked if she could join Eli’van’to’s family. If there was blame to be issued, it was Ar’alani’s alone. She had allowed the girl to ask such a question where others had been able to hear. She had not told the girl no.

To make matters worse, Un’hee had not been alone in her sentiment, though for the others it was merely a phase. Eli’van’to had always been understanding of them. He treated them as individuals. He saw them as they were and was ultimately respected by them for it. He had not done anything wrong.

But a Sky-walker who did not wish to join a ruling family, who would turn her nose up at the prestige and status that would be freely given, said something about the families as a whole. It was easier to be insulted than to face that ugly truth. Easier to find fault and manufacture lies.

Easier to strike fear into the hearts of an entire race with manufactured warfare and murder and-

“Welcome aboard the _Steadfast_ ,” Eli greeted them softly, the openness of his words and emotions slashing through Admiral Ar’alani’s thoughts. It was always such a jolt to newcomers to encounter the human. She knew what he had been cast as by the Aristocra. Newcomers expected a greedy monster, more of the same treatment. But Eli had always been humble. He no longer tried to fit in, to be more like a Chiss. He was different. That was why he had been sent to the Ascendancy in the first place.

“You’re safe now,” Un'hee added, like a promise.

It was one promise Ar'alani and Eli would do their damndest to keep.

The children descended the ramp in pairs, most clean and unharmed, wearing some iteration of an academy uniform, but with patches referring to a myriad of powerful families and their subsequent faction. The children were sheepish, though they were coaxed out of the transport much easier with the added presence of Un'hee.

One girl, taller than the rest, stopped halfway down the ramp to look at Un'hee. She smiled in a way that didn't meet her eyes, then gave Eli an appraising glance.

"They said that you will not rename us," The navigator said once she reached the bottom of the ramp and stepped delicately onto the hangar deckplates. Her voice was rough, defensive.

"No," Eli said, "We will not."

She pursed her lips, looking from him to Ar'alani - to which Ar'alani inclined her head in deference to Eli's statement - and back again. "I have had three names in the last year. Some of my younger sisters - and brothers,” She added, though there were none of the infinitely rarer male Sky-walkers among the group, “Have had more than five."

"You will not be renamed unless you so choose," Eli said. "You may keep," He faltered slightly, disgusted no doubt, "One of the names you have been given, if that is what you wish, or return to any of the others you have had before."

"Will we serve the CDF?" The navigator asked. 

"If you wish," Eli supposed, "But that's not important. For now, we'd like to make sure none of you are injured, fed if you'd like, and assign you a place to sleep." He smiled. Though his back was to her, Ar'alani could hear it in his voice. "Does that meet with your approval, Sky-walker…"

"You may call me Ren'yra," She said, straight-backed and poised. She must not have said much recently, Ar’alani noted, because her voice had moved beyond the roughness, becoming crisp and melodic, with a maturity that only hardship could mete out.

Eli nodded. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ren'yra. I apologize that it is not under better circumstances." Unlike other times when he would crouch to be on a navigator's eye level, he regarded her from a standing position, choosing formality over coddling.

Considering Ren'yra's sharp gaze, Ar'alani approved. The gleam in the girl's eye suggested she might have accosted him for it.

"I am General Eli," He said, then stepped and turned to the side, indicating her. "This is Admiral Ar'alani, my commanding officer."

"We share the leadership of this fleet," She informed them, voice like fresh-cut silk. "You and your sisters are welcome to come to either of us for anything."

"Anything," Ren'yra repeated, frowning. "And we do not have to do anything in exchange?"

"Absolutely not," She insisted, like it was an order. "You have all been through a great deal," She said, eyeing the flock of children who congregated in a small circle behind Ren'yra, looking mostly terrified. "I assure you that everything is as Eli says."

"And we can really use our old names?" A trembling voice asked from behind the children's self-appointed leader. "Like Ren'yra?"

"You will not face any judgement, regardless of what you choose."

Ren'yra crossed her arms. "So what do you get out of it?" She asked. "They wanted us because-"

"That's wrong," Eli interrupted. No matter how many times she heard it, it always struck her to your core. "We don't want anything from you that you do not want for yourselves. You are not bargaining pieces or signs of status. You are Chiss, the same as them."

"But you’re not," They said, in little murmurs of disquiet.

"No," Eli agreed. "I am not."

"Why do they not see it?" Ren'yra asked, squeezing her elbows. "We will lose our sight," She said, with certainty, "And then we are nothing but status and legacy. A trophy."

Ar'alani could see the child's composure breaking. After all, that was the point: she was just a child. The girl was older for a navigator, likely in her early teens. It was always worse with them, because they understood more of the world beyond their caretakers. They questioned everything from political motivations to why they were removed from their families and homes.

She had begun to feel that they were right for doing so. 

"I wish I could tell you," Eli told Ren'yra, again with that distinctly human compassion that made Ar'alani flinch somewhere deep inside. "But I honestly don't know. What I can tell you is that we're going to protect you - all of you."

"And after?" Ren'yra wondered, voice softer than it had been, but full of vehemence.

This, as it had been every time before, was the part that threatened to break her cool exterior. They could give no guarantees, really. They were no government and they were barely a fleet much less a military, but-

"I'll fight for you," Eli promised. "However I have to, I will. Whatever comes after, as long as I'm alive, you'll be allowed to choose."

Ren'yra set her gaze upon him again, then blinked and looked at Un'hee, who went just as rigid as the other navigator. Un'hee's Sight had faded, yes, but she seemed more perceptive now than she had ever been. They stayed that way, eyes locked on each other. Then, almost imperceptibly, the older girl nodded.

“I hope it is enough, General,” She said softly.

“So do I,” Eli agreed, gesturing toward the exit that would lead them from the hangar to the rest of the ship. “May I?”

As if she were truly in charge of them all, Ren'yra inclined her head. Ar’alani watched Un’hee hide a snicker behind her hand, letting the rest of the children fall in behind them as he led them along. Un’hee fell into step beside her instead. “That went alright,” The girl said. 

Ar’alani did not laugh, but she did put her hand between the girl’s shoulders. “Eli understands your sisters well,” She said.

“They are not my sisters, anymore,” Un’hee said tonelessly. "Not really."

“You may not have your Sight any longer, but you will always be a Sky-walker,” Ar’alani reminded her. “Your judgement in these matters is most valuable to them,” She added. She was capable of soothing a distressed navigator, but Un’hee was a special case. The girl’s moods were often in flux, between her previous trauma, her current trauma, and the fact that she’d lost her Sight far earlier than the average navigator was supposed to, before nine years old.

Still, Ar'alani's words made an impact. Un'hee pressed closer, just enough for Ar'alani's hand to rest between her shoulders and guide her forward. "That's what Eli says," She murmured softly. 

Her words held power, but to Un'hee, Eli had very quickly become the most important, most trusted being in her world. "Then you know it must be true."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has been my chapter favorite so far. I hope you like it!
> 
> Also, for those of you who have been curious about the timeline, the first chapter is set at about the time of Episode IV, and we're sitting at about 2ish ABY right now.

Un'hee woke to find her cheeks wet. She didn't remember dreaming about anything sad enough to leave her crying. Her dreams lately had been strange, though. 

She had been in a field with waist high grass. It was warm, with a wind that smelled sweet. Everything had been brown and tan, warm in a way most of the places that she had ever been were not.

A hand carded gently through her hair in smooth, even strokes. When she exhaled shakily, swallowing a sob she hadn't expected to bubble up, the hand stopped, and two thumbs swiped away fresh tears. She knew the hands that cupped her cheeks without needing to open her eyes.

"I," She began, lip trembling, "I-"

"It's alright," Eli said, kneeling next to her cot. She finally blinked her eyes open to see the familiar soft light in the kitchenette. He always left it on so she wouldn't feel disoriented when she woke in his quarters - because she almost always did. "Deep breaths," He instructed, waiting ever-patiently for her to match his slow, even breathing.

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked, voice light.

She sighed, sitting up and fidgeting. "Can I have-"

He nodded, rising to procure her journal from his desk where she had left it. It had been Vah'nya who had suggested it when he'd asked her for pointers. Un'hee found that it helped, was easier for her to sketch what she had seen or found herself feeling. 

It was also easier to talk about it while she put it onto the page. Her pencil scratched delicately as she began, first with a horizon, then bauble-like mountains in the distance.

"I was in a field," She began, forehead furrowing as she shaded shadows on the mountains, remembering the way she'd felt the heat of the planet's sun. As an afterthought, she etched two moons - both full and round - into the sky. "It was beautiful."

"Sounds nice," Eli said. He had shifted, sitting on the floor beside her cot. She drew her knees up, letting her legs become an impromptu desktop. "Doesn't explain the crying, though" He murmured with the subtlest twang. "You were sad," He said lightly, trying not to accuse her of it. He was right, though. He knew how she felt, sometimes, better than she did.

"Yes," She said. "I don't know why I was crying. It was not sad. I remember sitting," She said pensively. "There were these creatures who came out of the tall grass. They let me pet them," She mimicked the gesture with the hand not holding her journal steady. "They made sounds that rumbled, their entire bodies shaking. It was pleasant," She giggled, recalling the sound. "They trusted me, and I knew I trusted them."

He smiled at that. 

"There was another creature who did not come close. He watched, from far away." Her instrument stilled as she considered, smoothing the page as if the details would make themselves clear. "It was larger," She explained. "Like the little ones, but different. He looked at me like he knew me. I think that was the sad part. He wanted to come closer but couldn't."

"He couldn't?"

"He was on a different path," She said with a strange sort of sureness that she normally didn't feel. "He was there, but not. I don't know how to explain it," She admitted, sheepishly. "I just…"

"That's alright," Eli promised her, and sat silently while she finished her sketch of the scene. It was still so vivid in her mind's eye, but the recall of the minute details - the way the blades of grass swayed, how the one small animal perched itself, its striped ears and spotted belly - it always made her tired afterwards. It was like wringing herself out, an exhausting process. She welcomed it because usually she did not dream afterwards.

She handed him the book, open to her drawing. He scanned the page, nodding thoughtfully. She had caught the way his eyes darkened, narrowing on the image, particularly the small creatures.

"They're soft, aren't they?" He commented. "Fuzzy."

She smiled. A Chiss would have critiqued the lines, commented on the perfect shadows or the proportions of the horizon. They would have called her imaginative. Navigators had dreams, after all, but most thought they were mere anxieties manifested in abstract metaphors, and whatever other big words adults used to describe when they thought children were being ridiculous and likely crazy.

But Eli was not a Chiss. Nor did he think her crazy. No, Eli was curious and understanding in all the right ways. He helped her make sense of things.

"They were!" She exclaimed. "They were brown, and had different patterns. No two were alike." Her excitement was swallowed by a yawn about as big as she was. He chuckled at the sight.

"Time for bed, I think," He said, taking the instrument from her fingers. "Are you alright here? I'll leave the light on."

She hummed in the affirmative, but asked sheepishly, "Will you leave your door open?"

He helped her settle back beneath her blankets, curled up on her side how she liked. He tucked the covers under her chin before smoothing her hair back behind the ear not flush with the pillow. "Of course. Good night, Un'hee."

"Eli," She began, softer with the beginnings of sleep, "How did you know they were soft?"

He lingered in the doorway, gauging whether or not she was awake enough for the complete answer. She didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes before he chose to respond. "Ask me in the morning. Goodnight, Un’hee."

Satisfied, she closed her eyes and fell asleep right away.

\----------

Thrawn moved briskly through the spaceport. Fuel burn was an issue with their method of travel. The routes were longer and the conditions throughout the Chaos caused them to require refueling far more often than he had become accustomed to during his time in the Empire. 

At his side, Bridger trotted to keep up, but he hadn't groused about it once. Thrawn had little doubt that the younger man was aware of his motivations. While uncommon, there was still a possibility that they would find other Chiss on such a busy hub. So far, they had not. 

The young man was good about making himself look busy and not attached to Thrawn in any way. It was likely his abilities, allowing him to sense and react without having to watch as closely as Faro might. It was also somewhat to do with their allyship which was both awkward - in the human's eyes - and perfunctory.

Bridger had once summarized Thrawn's feelings on their partnership with words like _hate_ and _begrudging_. He had rejected Thrawn's assertions otherwise: words like _obstacle, objective. Strained._ And yet, he followed Thrawn anyway.

It was clear that Kanan Jarrus had trained the boy. Bridger had some formal education matching what he had read about the Jedi. And yet, his training was obviously incomplete, supplemented with lessons learned through abandonment and survival where his master either could not or would not teach him. He was committed to his craft, and though Thrawn did not understand much of the Force or Bridger's abilities beyond recognizing the ways they tended to manifest, Thrawn respected that about him.

Thrawn came to a stop at a newsstand, eyes roaming over the many languages and headlines displayed in the front of the small kiosk. He heard Bridger make a small sound of surprise - the lesser galaxy rarely used flimsi - and fall back, no doubt waiting also scanning for something in a language he could read. Thrawn doubted he would find anything beyond the faded advertisements printed in Sy Bisti, but Bridger had surprised him before so he tended not to rule anything out.

The alien who greeted him had little by way of information. Xe was disinterested, content to fulfill the requirements of xier shift and move on. Judging by xier muscles, and the scar on xier face, it was likely that meant smuggling or piracy. Such a life was common for spaceports like this, with little danger for partaking in more dangerous activities beyond the usual rivalries. The overarching authorities out this far in the Chaos barely served any governing functions.

The beings here had a tendency to rule themselves.

He moved along not long after finishing his conversation with the worker, not disappointed or frustrated, but blank. He had thought that if the Ascendancy had cracked wide open in civil war that something would have made headlines this far out.

The Chaos was full of gossiping species, his own included. It was all a woeful reminder of the gaps in his understanding. What political machinations would inspire them to keep quiet? 

He heard the sounds of transaction behind him. He wasn't surprised that Bridger had bought something. He seemed to collect things, though he wasn't the type to be so attached that he struggled to let go when the time came. Thrawn made sure the young human had continued to follow at a distance before beginning to make his way back to the ship. 

"Hey, uh-" Thrawn didn’t turn back to look at the Jedi, but he did slow, shortening the distance between them. “I feel… cold,” Bridger said, as if speaking to himself, but just loud enough that Thrawn overheard.

The Chiss stopped immediately. 

Humans had a tendency to describe their feelings with words that were not meant to describe emotions. Jedi tended to take it one step further. At least, the Jedi Thrawn was currently paired with did. Ezra Bridger used specific words that meant specific things only to him. Thrawn could see ‘cold’ as meaning ‘devoid of emotion,’ or ‘empty.’ But to Ezra Bridger, ‘cold’ meant ‘dark.’ _Dangerous._

Quickly, as subtle as he dared, Thrawn cast a glance around them. “I do not see anyone,” He murmured.

“Watching us,” Bridger offered. “I feel like there are eyes on me,” He continued, shuddering.

“Then we should take our leave,” Thrawn said. “There is nothing here for us.” Faro would have refueling well in hand. If there was trouble lurking on this port, it was not theirs to stir up. So long as Bridger did not insert himself, they would return to their vessel and set off once more.

Bridger kept his hood up, whenever they were planetside. For a young man who had been so boisterous about his rebel activities, his survival senses were keen. Thrawn could appreciate that attentiveness. He also tended to adapt to any situation Thrawn threw them into: His improvisation was quite admirable. But when it was like this, when he sensed whatever evil he knew to be the inherent enemy to whatever he stood for - like Palpatine, Thrawn thought, and though he did not shiver he could not help but to tense microscopically - he was rigid. 

Fear, Thrawn had learned, was brittle. It broke beings with ease.

Bridger was not fearful by nature. He was distrustful, certainly. His strength with the Force, as he had explained it to Thrawn, was in connection. Thrawn could not connect with him to provide stability or grounding. He had neither the Force inclination or enough of a compatible emotional connection with the younger man to do so. So when he put his hand between Ezra Bridger’s shoulders and guided him forward at a slightly more urgent pace, the Jedi tensed up and never quite relaxed.

“Describe it to me,” Thrawn instructed him. It had not happened more than once before, in the presence of a strange, supposedly sentient plant that had projected no aura or posed any danger that Thrawn could tell. As he had then, Thrawn deferred to the Jedi’s expertise, though he strove to understand as much as he could in the process.

"I can't," Ezra said. "We're being watched. That's what I know."

"Think," Thrawn asserted. "There must be more to it than that."

That made the human bristle. "Don't you think I've tried?" He said sharply, voice rising.

Thrawn growled, an indication that Ezra should not tip off anyone nearby to his apparent distress.

"Okay, okay,” He said, and this time he was grousing a bit - a precursor to doing what Thrawn wanted, and that was to explain. “I know I've never felt anything like this before. It's grating. Like something scratchy. And _not_ like that plant with the spines, either," He added. “This is a person - no,” He amended, “Persons, plural. Four of them, maybe? They feel the same but it’s wrong. Dissonant. Like they’re either supposed to feel the same or they’re all supposed to be different, like pretty much everything else feels.”

Yes, Thrawn recalled how every being felt different and unique to the Jedi, it was one of the few things he had been given insight about. But Ezra had said something else, and that something else was of concern, if only for the irony that had plagued his time with the Jedi to date. “You described it as ‘scratchy,’” Thrawn quoted. “Can you tell me where the presence of this feeling originates from?”

“ _That’s_ what you latched onto?” Ezra rolled his eyes. They were still hurrying along. The spaceport was large and circular in structure, without the spoke-like shortcuts through its center that many others had to make traversing it easier. He stopped briefly, closed his eyes and concentrated as best he could, then gave a jerk of his hand, held in front of him to indicate the direction in which he had sensed the presence. The Jedi kept his gaze trained on Thrawn when the Chiss turned and looked, scanning the bustling crowds before his eyes narrowed.

“As I suspected,” He said gravely. “To the ship. Do not run, but do not stop.”

“Obviously,” That was what they were already doing, or had been, until Thrawn had started peppering him with questions. “What are they?”

“Scratchlings,” Thrawn said.

"What kind of name is that?" Bridger quipped, already more at ease with greater distance between them. 

“That is the only name I have ever heard for them," Thrawn admitted. "It was used by a seven year old girl."

"What?" The incredulous look Ezra threw Thrawn's way would have to wait. He grabbed the young man by the shoulder more forcefully, shoving him around a group of Trandosians that were very far from home.

Ahead, the ramp to their nondescript freighter was already open but Faro was not within sight. Thrawn had a very bad feeling about this.

"Bridger," He hissed, urgently. "Tell me-"

"I feel one on the ship," Ezra said. He didn't shudder like he had before, his posture shifting in anticipation for battle. It was subtle, but Thrawn didn't miss it. "What do you need me to do?"

\----------

The oily feeling of darkness had an almost seductive headyness in the Force. At least, it did to Ezra, who still remembered what it was like to harness that power, right up until the light flooded in and the darkness recoiled, mailing his stomach roil in the process. Ezra could not nullify himself in the Force, but he could let go of his emotions, let them wash over and past him. Whether it would work or not, he didn't know. Still, Thrawn seemed to think it was worth a try, especially if one of those things had Faro.

And it did have her. Long fingers, slim and seemingly boneless, wrapped around her neck and head in a sort of reverse chokehold. It didn’t appear to be actively trying to deprive her of oxygen, however. She was shaking, fingers twitching at her sides like she might have been trying to get away, but it wasn’t right.

There was a kind of pressure being exerted. Ezra didn’t know if Thrawn could feel it, but he most certainly could.

Ezra held out his hand to stop them. Thrawn had brandished his blaster and waited not more than a single step behind him on the single entrance ramp. Instead of raising his own, Ezra handed it to the Chiss. Ezra figured Thrawn was smart enough to figure out his next play.

“Hey, you! Ugly!” It wasn’t so much what was said, or that Ezra had said it in Basic. His tone was sharp, high-pitched. 

And it was nothing compared to the screeching squawk that came out of the being in front of him. He winced, but his fingers reached out in front of him instead of grabbing at his ears.

Thrawn made a threatening sound behind him and said something in a language Ezra had heard but didn’t understand. Another trade language, he assumed. The creature answered him in kind. They continued to converse.

Okay, Ezra thought. He could work with this. Faro’s eyes were mostly rolled back, her features loose in a way that indicated an overload of stimuli. She was always put together and fierce, not slack-jawed and limp, groaning incoherently. 

But then again, most people weren’t interrogated by seemingly evil aliens, so he’d give her a pass today. He very carefully raised his hands, keeping them palms down, focusing on the stick-like fingers that wrapped around her neck and up into her hair, against her head. Maybe he could-

The creature screamed again, that scratchy, bleating sound, like nails against durasteel, shrieking. “So much for that,” Ezra exhaled. “She’s going to hate me for this,” He murmured to Thrawn, then slammed his hands upward, thrusting them both at the ceiling. The telekinetic ability came to a surprise to their assailant, who let go of Faro to shield its head as it slammed abruptly against the cargo hold’s upper metal wall. Faro went with the motion as well, but Ezra held one hand out in mid-air, never quite raising it with the other. Her body pitched upwards then fell slightly, as if floating on a gentle sea.

He brought her down slowly, still keeping the other being plastered to the ceiling of the hold with the Force. She was somewhere between catatonic and unconscious, he suspected, maybe in shock. “What did he do to her?” Ezra asked.

Thrawn eyed their immobilized enemy. “Step back,” He instructed, and raised his blaster. 

“Hey, wait, what are you-”

“They’ve already spotted us,” He interrupted gravely. “And if they took any information from Faro, my people could be in danger.”

“You don’t know that she gave them anything,” Ezra protested.

“And you did not know what they were until moments ago,” Thrawn responded, firing rapidly into the being’s chest.

It didn’t scream as it died, nor did it twitch with left-over synapses. Ezra slowly pulled it down with the Force, turning back towards the open hatchway when it landed on the floor with a gentle thump. He made his displeasure known through his tone as he asked, “So what are we doing with the body?”

Thrawn searched it carefully, as if he expected the corpse to blow up or reanimate. Maybe he did. He seemed surprised when it stayed limp. It was always something with the Chiss. “We will leave it here. No doubt their comrades will come looking when they do not return.” Ezra crossed his arms. Thrawn held out a small vial of what looked like gas, then tucked it back into the being’s inner pocket. He looked up at Ezra. “I realize you dislike my actions, however that creature had seen you use the Force and even when she wakes,” He cast his glowing gaze to Faro, still laying on the ground “She may not be able to speak to what they found out. I will not risk my people’s safety-”

“I get it,” Ezra said. “But she’s not malleable like that. She wouldn’t cave-”

“You don’t know that,” Thrawn said. “There are beings who can turn others,” He clenched a fist, “Bend them to their will.”

“And you think that… _Scratchling_ did that to Faro?”

Thrawn rose lifting the corpse into his arms. He dumped it at the bottom of the ramp, scanned their surroundings, and closed the hatch without a sound. In those few seconds, Ezra had moved to Faro’s side, kneeling beside her. The Chiss asked, “You do not sense other stowaways or imminent danger?” 

Ezra focused for a moment, then shook his head. He couldn’t detect any other beings within their ship. It was curious that Thrawn would defer to his expertise rather than checking the ship manually. Then again, he’d also just dumped a body off the ramp. Thrawn continued moving, leaving Ezra to tend to the woman on the floor of the hold. “Then I will plot our course.”

“It’s already plotted-” Thrawn’s eyes narrowed. “Right,” Ezra corrected. Of course Thrawn would deviate. He was paranoid. Though, some of that paranoia had kept them alive, so Ezra wasn’t about to argue with him. “I’ll take Faro to her quarters and meet…” Another look at Thrawn, “I mean, I’ll stay with her until she wakes up,” He amended.

“I do not know if you would be able to sense any potential tampering,” Thrawn said quietly from the doorway leading toward the front of the ship. His back was to them both, with only his head tilted to the side to regard them in his periphery. “But I believe she might feel better to know that you attempted.”

It didn’t take long for Faro to recover, interrupting the near-trance state Ezra had fallen into trying to determine if any harm had befallen the other human at the hands of the strange, screechy alien. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a speeder,” She groaned aloud, tenderly rubbing at her temples. She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, watching the vent-plate above her rattle. “And my ears are bleeding.”

Ezra watched her carefully, sitting with his legs drawn up to his chest and his back against the wall. Eventually, her head lolled to the side, and she eyed him warily. He was honestly surprised she had noticed his presence. “Do you remember what happened?” He asked her.

She exhaled, all the air leaving her belly in a single whoosh. “That kriffing Scratchling got the jump on me,” She said. “I don’t remember much after that. Did you save me?”

He shrugged. “It was a group effort,” He supposed. “Thrawn’s taking us on a detour to make sure we’re not being followed.”

“Does he _think_ we’re being followed?”

Another shrug. “I don’t think we are. I don’t think that nasty had you for very long. It was squeezing you pretty tightly, but you aren’t bruised or anything. Not even any red marks.”

Shuddering, Faro brought herself up to a sitting position. “It wanted something from me,” She said. “I don’t know how it recognized me, though.”

“It wasn’t you,” Ezra said. “It could have been me, or Thrawn. It probably sensed that you were in the ship after we left and decided to see what you knew.”

“Maybe,” She said, with an undercurrent of doubt. “It wasn’t talking in a language I understood, so I don’t know what it got out of me.”

“Probably nothing.”

“Never assume it’s nothing,” Faro said. “Tell me you killed it before it rejoined its group or whatever.”

Ezra inclined his head to the open doorway. “Thrawn might have put several rounds in their chest.”

“Good. So we’re secure?”

“I hope?” Ezra looked a little sheepish. “Unless those guys can communicate telepathically. If that’s the case, anything goes.”

She nodded. “You’re learning,” She said, and Ezra looked rather offended that she’d managed to bait him into a trap even while out of sorts. “Thanks for saving me, Bridger.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ezra smirked. “Seriously. You might want to go check on you-know-who, though. I think he was worried about you.”

Faro inclined her head. “I’m sure he was. He might pretend otherwise, but you know how he gets.”

“Yeah,” He replied, following her from the tiny cabin, “I suppose I do.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically the beginning of this chapter was burning a hole in my metaphorical pocket and I needed to share it. Enjoy!
> 
> PS: You wanted a long, Eli centered monologue from Thrawn, right? Okay good.

It was a rare day when Eli pulled the old Imperial datapad from the drawer beside his bed. It was even rarer still when Un’hee was around to witness it. All the words were in the strange script she knew to be Eli's native language. Un'hee waited for him to pull up the data as promised. It was easy to be patient, especially when she sat on his bed, tucked comfortably against his side.

He handed her the device with a nod of encouragement. She took it gingerly. His presence had seeped into it, in a lot of ways. She could almost see Eli pulling up some encrypted text hidden deep in the device’s memory like a projection in her mind. She caught a glimpse of a lingering sadness. But more than that, she felt the resolve and steadiness she had come to associate with him since everything had gone wrong.

“Still with me, Un’hee?” He asked her. She blinked. It was so easy to lose herself in the rare comfort Eli’s presence brought her.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Yes, Eli,” She said, blinking up at him. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright,” He promised. 

She had told him how sometimes touching things would dredge up lingering emotions and even the occasional image. Her old caretakers had thought she was making it up. She was perceptive, they had said to her face. She knew, though, what so many of them had said behind her back. She had issues. There were no other Sky-walkers - much less journeyed Navigators - who had been in service to their enemies for as long as she had and lived to see rescue.

She had nightmares often. She felt things very fiercely, to the very core of her spirit. She-

“Un’hee?”

“I’m sorry,” She said again, and tucked her face into his arm. It immediately gave way and wrapped around her, pulling her into him. She pressed her face against his side and just breathed for a long minute.

“Is it too strong today?” He asked.

No one ever asked her if she was sensitive, before. The momishes cared about studies, about keeping the admiral and her staff happy. Un’hee cared about those things, too. Sometimes it was just too much. Especially now. Sometimes there were overwhelming feelings of fear and loneliness and hopelessness that she would pick up by accident, just by touching the wrong thing or using the wrong corridor or lift. Other Sky-walkers had reported a deeper emotional response to stimuli, but it was usually before bouts of overload. This was just how it was for Un’hee, all the time, even when she had none of her Sight left to speak of.

The datapad was removed from her hands and set aside. “No,” She protested, reaching after it. “It’s not bad. It feels like you,” She explained. “I was just thinking.”

“If you’re feeling-”

“It brings you comfort,” She interrupted, trying to explain. “You read… something... on it when you feel unsure or lonely.”

That made Eli smile. Not the smile he saved for Un’hee, the one that was more dazzling and made her heart feel warm and her back straighten with pride. No, this smile was a little sad and a little tender. “I do,” He agreed, and dipped his head. “If you’re sure it won’t be too much,” He supposed, handing her the device again. She took it more eagerly this time, shifting as close as she could without sitting in his lap. “Do you remember how to turn it on?”

She nodded, and found the tiny round button at the top that turned the screen back on. Immediately, it lit up. “There’s so many!” She gushed, finally looking at all the illustrations of different furry creatures. “They are common?”

“Very,” Eli answered. “Most of them are called tookas. There are other subspecies, though, that live on different worlds.”

She studied one of the images. The creature’s fur was almost as bright as her skin, but a more purple hue. “Twoo-kuh,” She repeated, brow furrowed in confusion.

“ _Tooh-kuh_ ,” He corrected.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Un’hee said, nose scrunching. “The one I saw in my dream-” She looked through the doorway, to the cot that had been made up with bed linens pilfered from the quartermaster yesterday evening, and the journal that sat atop it. “I remember that it was brown,” She said. “Like the ground, but a little darker.” She pursed her lips. “Do they call them something else?”

“Depends on where you’re talking,” He admitted. “Do any of them look familiar to you?”

She considered the listing of different tookas until she was almost to the bottom of the page, scrolling with one finger. She pursed her lips. “This one,” She said, and tapped the image.

“That’s what I thought,” He said, and showed her how to blow up the image that loaded, ignoring the aurebesh text beneath it for the time being.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, pouting. “You knew what it was.”

“I did,” He said. “I recognized the landscape.”

“Have you been there?” She leaned into him, looking up into his face. “Are they from your home planet?”

He chuckled fondly. “No, those are not lys-cats,” He said. “Close though. Ours don’t have feet like that. They have paws instead of talons and are a lot smaller. “These are called loth-cats.”

“Loth-cat,” She said, and touched her fingers to the image. Her eyes narrowed on it. “The other creature,” She said. “It was not a loth-cat.” She frowned. “It was…" She said the word in Cheunh, "A wolf?”

Eli looked down at her, then keyed the device to a different page. Un’hee made a squeak of disappointment when there was no picture to compare her drawing to. “It says here that loth-wolves are extinct,” He read for her. “Have been for centuries.”

“The one I saw was white,” She said. “It had yellow eyes.” She shrugged. “I know it was a dream, Eli, but I felt like I was really there. I could feel the sun,” She said. “I felt the loth-cat purr when I pet him.”

“I believe you,” Eli said. “I don’t understand it, but I don’t doubt your feelings, Un’hee. I’ve only ever seen Lothal in pictures,” He admitted. ”Your drawing last night looked just like it.”

Un’hee shrugged. “Well, I’d rather dream about loth-cats than Scratchlings,” She said. “Or… anything else. They’re very cute,” She said, and scrolled past the short blocks of text on the screen looking for more pictures of Lothalian creatures. “I think a loth-wolf could eat a Scratchling,” She decided, serious in the way children were.

“I bet it could,” Eli said indulgently, choosing not to comment on the morbidity of the comment. Instead, he let the Sky-walker dictate what else they looked at on the datapad’s outdated archives. Eli had never seen a loth-wolf before and he probably never would beyond Un’hee’s sketchings, but he had a feeling that Un’hee’s assessment wasn’t wrong.

\----------

Thrawn had waited patiently for the opportune moment when both Faro and Bridger had retired to their quarters and everything had gone silent, leaving him truly alone in the cockpit of the small ship. When it arrived, he pushed the captain’s chair as far back as the seat would go, and fixed the ridiculous reclined position that the young jedi favored during his shifts monitoring the helm. 

Space travel was soothing to him. It had always been, ever since that first time when he had been a newly minted cadet. There was a sort of vastness to space that was lonely to many, it brought him solace. Though perhaps it was hyperbole, he had always found it easier to think during space travel, as if he had room to expand upon and explore his thoughts, to contemplate the pathways and myriad possibilities that lay before him. 

He had much to think upon and little foundation upon which to draw his conclusions.

He knew very little. His people were at war. There were at least two major factions, obviously familial alliances at odds. Which side did Ar’alani support? What had truly been the cause?

Faro, and all sorts of obscure, untrustworthy media outlets had reported the conflict to have been caused by an outsider. A human. Faro had confirmed that speculation pointed to Eli Vanto. She - and all the outlets he had scoured - had no information on Brierly Ronan at all.

He understood that his people were xenophobic, however it was significantly ignorant - and dare he say impossible - to mistake the dark-haired, tan-skinned Vanto for the pale and pinkish Ronan. Even in voice, Vanto’s charismatic baritone had a warmth that was lacking in Ronan’s hostile tenor. Eli Vanto was… singular. He would never do anything to incite the families to war. He, like Thrawn, wished to reduce casualties and wastefulness in their peoples' endeavors. 

But Thrawn was out of touch with the happenings of the Aristocra. It had been better that way. Safer. Ar'alani had warned him that war lurked on the horizon. And there was only one thing - something that was both military and politics - that could have landed Vanto the blame for it all.

Vanto had uncovered something about the Navigators. Thrawn had been right in sending him. That much he knew. Of course, it could be that his people were truly that xenophobic and it was Ronan who had done something unforgivable. But Thrawn doubted it. Ronan was loud and boisterous, not intrinsically evil.

It had to be a misunderstanding.

The Chiss laid his questis upon the control panel and keyed up an image to be sent to the ship's tiny holo-projector. Lysatran art was interesting for its honesty - earnest landscapes and unblemished recreations of temperate deserts, distant mountains, and big sky, unexaggerated despite the artists' individual styles. Their oral traditions were a bit ridiculous, warped for sake of entertainment and drama, but the core truths remained. 

He selected a new image from the short list he had managed to find via a local data network. It was a painting of the sky at dawn, a time of day always Vanto woke for promptly. Mornings on his homeworld had been the coolest time of day, he had explained once, so he had learned to rise before the single sun. The sky was a gradient, blue black to purple to orange to yellow-white, stars still visible despite the coming light from the sun.

Analysis of this work told him nothing about Eli Vanto that he didn't already know. But it was better than the Chiss-adjacent news articles about the event that had left Csilla's governing theatre in tatters. Whomever had committed such a crime had no love of art, and even less decency.

It couldn't be Eli Vanto. Vanto's was the only true friendship he had ever had, one he had created for himself, that he had identified and fostered despite their initial misunderstandings. Vanto was not his only friend, though Thrawn did not have - or have need for - many. It would be foolish of him to ignore that this friendship, the one he had with the human man, was more than that, however.

Thrawn was aware that he was… difficult. He did not intend to be, he simply held the utmost confidence in his thought processes. He was, after all, mostly correct, and if he was not, he had secondary and tertiary plans that were just as sound and accounted for any number of variables.

Perhaps it was Thrawn's influence upon him, Vanto's maturation into a more worldly adult, or their close proximity that had led to that bond being formed between them. Thrawn knew that they were similar from the first. Had recognized that when Vanto had stepped across the line and addressed him in a familiar language. He had recognized other things in Vanto, too. Similarities not to himself, but to Vanto's new admiral.

Thrawn had not been prepared for Vanto's absence. He had, of course, prepared himself for what that absence would look like. In hindsight, such preparation was meaningless. He did not realize his own backsliding until he'd had another officer by the collar, feet dangling from the ground.

He never lashed out. It had been impulsive of him. If Vanto had been there…

If Vanto had been there, Slavin would not have bothered him as much. Vanto would have raised an eyebrow behind the other man's back, and the glitter of his dark eyes would have expressed understanding. Vanto would not have - had never, because he was innately good - tolerated Slavin's cutting words and xenophobic nature. He would have found some mundane way to suggest that Slavin's lack of respect for his enemies had been to blame for his failure before it ever happened.

Because Vanto had begun to see the patterns.

The Imperial machine had changed Thrawn. Had worn down things inside him. He knew that. But it had been worth the damage to himself. It had been worth it to continue down that path as far as it could go, to see if he could enact some semblance of influence overall, eventually producing a worthy ally.

This, he did not allow himself to think upon often. The original iteration of his plan, the one where Arindha Pryce did not defy his expectations, did not commit genocide on the beings of Batonn, had been simple enough. Even if he had not been able to convince Nightswan there and then, there would have been other opportunities. A man like Nightswan was too connected - and too intelligent - to be in custody for long.

He would have gone. Once Nightswan had encountered a Grysk, Thrawn knew he would have understood. Nightswan would have been able to adapt to and aid the Ascendancy.

But would he have been what they needed?

He would have been useful, but he wouldn't have been Vanto, the very best - and perhaps that was biased, though the results spoke for themselves - the Empire had to offer. What Vanto could do for his people: The way his mind worked, how he saw connections in data…

The leader he would become if given the opportunity to grow: Outside of Thrawn's influence, in his own right...

Thrawn had never doubted that. But now, with time away to reflect, without answers or leads to begin untangling the questions that eluded him…With the absolute and utter failure in his mission - and to his fleet, and to his people - that still plagued him, uncertainty nipped at his heels.

He knew only one thing for certain: if he had been wrong about Vanto, that would not be the kind of defeat he could bear.

He wasn't, he told himself, forcing his eyes to focus on the brush strokes of the admittedly pleasing painting. He couldn't be. Vanto wouldn't let him down.

But what would Eli Vanto think of Thrawn when he learned that Thrawn could not say the same?

\----------

It didn't take long to realize he was dreaming.

Things didn't look right. They had strange highlights. It was most noticeable when he looked at the being beside him, an alien he had never seen before. There was a strange bright smear across the being's face, from cheek to cheek, across the bridge of their tapered nose. 

The language was strange, too. It made no sense, but it was clear he wasn’t meant to reply. He was meant to obey and it was like his body knew what to do, regardless of his understanding and the undercurrent of fear that soured everything. He reached out his hands. They were smaller than he remembered. He was wearing gloves. His hands didn't quite wrap around the control yoke. They hovered, barely touching the strange metallic controls.

He bowed his head and felt the lurch of the hyperdrive activating in his belly before it happened. He focused on his destination. He had done this before, had memorized the route. He needed only to lean into it, to picture it in his mind's eye. It was…

Ezra lurched awake.


	9. Chapter 9

There was something about the way Ar'alani held herself that never failed to give away her mood. Eli could see it, written in the lines of her shoulders. Her face was more expressive than most Chiss, too. She could use regal stoicism and confidence to command her ship - which she did, with usually exceptional results - but she had an unmistakable emotional presence that rallied her people like nothing Eli had ever seen.

Her devotion to the military and to her people in general was part of why Eli couldn't understand the defections after the Divide. They were supposed to keep the peace from the very real threats from without. The petty political squabbles and power grabs the crumbling Syndicure had enacted despite its open hostilities had crippled their defense fleet.

“We have received a transmission,” Ar’alani said, long fingers woven together in front of her, her hands clasped together and resting elegantly on her black-chrome desk.

“A transmission,” Eli repeated slowly. He read the unspoken tension in her posture, how her shoulders were up high - hackles raised, defensive - while her face remained impassive. “Who?”

“Ufsa.”

Eli frowned, his posture stiffening as he asked, “A syndic or-?”

“The acting Patriarch.” Eli’s frown only deepened. Usually when the word ‘acting’ preceded anything, that meant that someone had died. “As of this morning, the acting Syndicure-” And now she meant that the governing body was a sham, an opinion with which Eli concurred, “Has demoted the Ufsa family from the ruling council.”

“And then there were three,” He mused, rising from the chair he usually took to take the projector remote from her desk. A quick tap displayed a map of the greater Ascendancy above the seat he’d been occupying. “Irizi, Plikh,” He looked back to her, “And Mitth. Any word on who is responsible?”

“I have my suspicions,” She said. “The new Patriarch reached out to me through a secure, confidential channel.”

“Let me guess: They want to negotiate,” Eli assumed, “Because they finally got voted out of the in-crowd?”

“Something like that,” Ar’alani agreed. “The Patriarch had the foresight to attempt presenting the family as humbled by the experience, but they are as blind as the rest.”

Eli tapped the remote again, indicating the fleet’s current location, then the presumed location of the Ufsa family’s chosen base. It was hard to tell how reliable that information was, considering the current climate. “We aren’t a negotiating party,” He said, voice steely.

“No, we are not.” Her eyes narrowed. “And they have been informed as much.”

“And?”

“They wished for me to come planetside to judge my intent.” She rose from behind the desk, stepping lightly around the furniture to join Eli in the center of the room. With deft fingers, she plucked the remote from his hands and hit a button. The planet Eli had highlighted went dim. Another, further away, lit up in its place. “I refused.”

“You’re the only admiral left,” He said. “Why in the hell would they ever think you would put yourself-” She held out the hand holding the remote to silence him.

“They understand our terms,” She said. “I detailed them at length with the Patriarch. And Samakro.”

“And?” He asked, expectantly.

She shook her head. “It has barely been twelve hours. The Patriarch believes we will come to him, I could hear it in his tone.” Her scrutinous eyes met Eli’s. “We will not hear from him again.”

He nodded in understanding The Patriarch wasn’t the important part. “Samakro was disappointed with that outcome.” 

She nodded. “It is my understanding that he was recently made the family’s military leader.” She enhanced the map. Eli heard what she wasn’t saying. He trusted her judgement.

“And the rest?”

“Impossible to tell with the information we have. They will likely align with the other disavowed families, their lesser allies will rally and come to their, and the fight will go on and on until we either expose and eliminate the cause of this insanity-” At that, her eyes glittered coldly, “Or collect enough allies who desire peace to return order.”

“Or until the Grysks catch on and wipe us off the board altogether.”

The admiral did not answer him. She didn’t have to for him to know she agreed with the assessment. Still, she had more information. Ar’alani’s shoulders drew back, the motion elongating her neck. "Samakro did manage to send a secure drop with the transmission," She informed him wryly.

"Right under the Patriarch’s nose?" He commented, surprised. “That’s a bold move.” Not that the Ufsa merit adoptive wasn’t bold - he had been sending them reports through the “reallocated” _Springhawk_ for months now. Eli didn’t doubt Samakro would be torn down a couple pegs when he finally rejoined the fleet for leaving in the first place, but they were too desperate for allies with experience to actually hold them truly accountable.

She didn't shrug, that wasn’t her way, but the brightness of her eyes flared before her gaze narrowed. To Eli, it was a far more elegant version of the same kind of thing. Confident and aloof, the hallmarks of a Chiss, but with a decidedly casual air. "Samakro enjoys pushing his limits when he knows he can get away with it," She said. "But it is unlikely that he would have another chance, considering the evolution of their situation. The family will be monitoring data-transmissions more closely from here on." She keyed the map off entirely. She had shown Eli location, and Eli had long since learned to commit whatever information he had been given - no matter how trivial seeming it was - to memory.

"That makes sense,” Eli admitted, trying not to flush. Samakro’s ballsiness aside, Eli should have thought of that. It had certainly happened with other failed communications with some of the lesser families in the months prior. “So what intelligence did he send us?”

Ar’alani ignored the heat in his cheeks. “What is relevant has been sent to your questis.” Her gaze was intense. “He has the loyalty of his troops.”

“And his loyalty?”

“He says it is to the Ascendancy.” The admiral’s smile was predatory.

Eli shook his head. He’d gotten better at reading Chiss, at anticipating things from subtle facial movements and aborted gestures. Ar’alani’s smile was overt, saying far more than she would have had she actually spoken aloud. “When do I leave?” He asked.

\----------

Bridger paced in the small hallway outside the galley for exactly one hundred eighty-seven seconds before Thrawn set down his questis, and shifted to look behind himself. The young man had flown out of his room as though the ship were being attacked. When he realized Thrawn had noticed him, the tension in his shoulders dispersed, and he took the Chiss's raised eyebrow as an invitation.

Thrawn returned to his quiet study of some artwork on the screen. The Jedi would talk, or he would not. But first, he would make caf. If he wanted to talk, Bridger would start by offering or simply bringing him caf. At first, Thrawn had declined, calling it a waste when the younger man mostly seemed to hold onto the cup for warmth. Ezra was not pleased that Thrawn was the only being he could talk to. At least, he had not been.

It was harder to tell if that was still the case, now. "Art?" The Jedi asked, sliding into the booth, spinning a second mug to face Thrawn as he did.

The Chiss tapped the screen to illuminate the piece. 

"Wild Space?"

Thrawn gave an affirmative tilt of the head. "Do you recognize it?"

"No," Ezra admitted. "But it kind of reminds me of Lothal."

"The planet this is from is similar in climate. It does not have the same mining resources as Lothal had."

"Huh," The kid said. Then, tentatively, "Did the art tell you that?"

"Certainly not, though some pieces have indicating features or color schemes to denote resources considered valuable by the artist or their culture."

Bridger was not terribly interested in art, but perhaps it had been Sabine Wren's influence that kept him from tuning out these sorts of conversations. He had never been particularly gifted at understanding more than basic color composition and describing art with admittedly surprising adjectives, but the longer Thrawn spent with him, the more these exchanges tended to feel like conversations rather than cross-examination or interrogations.

"Is that where _he_ was from?"

Thrawn leaned back in the booth, examining Bridger. It was a bit too short for his liking, but he was a taller being and more than used to the human standard at this point. The Jedi had slowly been building his skills under Thrawn's watch, but consideration of the way the younger man held himself said this wasn't about uncovering what might he might consider to be a secret of Thrawn's, and more about what was bothering him. It didn’t necessarily change the response, even if it did make things easier.

"It is," Thrawn began, voice carefully neutral. "The planet is called Lysatra."

He had never shared that information before. Any information, really. He had eluded to the darkness lurking in the Unknown Regions, but he had not expanded upon them in any such detail. He only referenced the Grysks in passing, following the Scratchling who had assaulted Faro over a week ago. It would come out shortly, whether he shared it or not. Ar’alani would want information and she would want it corroborated with his allies.

Bridger reached for the questis so Thrawn slid it over.

"I saw him, I think," He said, not looking up from the sunrise painting Thrawn favored for a long moment.

"Saw him," Thrawn repeated.

"I've been having these," Bridger paused, weighing the right word. Visions were not uncommon for Jedi, from what little Thrawn had managed to read during his time in the Empire. Bridger had admitted as much as well, though it had been flippant and much earlier on. He did not call them visions this time. "Er, dreams."

Thrawn folded his fingers together beneath his chin, elbows on the table. He appraised the Jedi quietly, then made a small gesture with his hands. "Describe him."

"Kind,” He said, immediately. He shook himself, as if the word association had come from outside of himself. Then, “Dark skin. Browner than mine. Dark eyes. He's taller than me, but barely, and he's probably a little older than or about the same age as Kallus?" Thrawn's eyes narrowed, but Bridger was trying to find handholds, ways to express the information. His tone relayed no insult. “Younger than you and Faro,” He added confidently.

The young Jedi drummed on his mug, not looking up from his beverage. "The only reason I knew it was him," He added, voice going softer, "Was because he introduced himself."

"Did he?" Thrawn asked dubiously.

It sounded rhetorical, but Ezra answered anyway. "I-" He winced, "Er, whoever I was in the dream, knew him as Lieutenant Eli. He was the only person I felt I could trust."

"And you recognized the name," Thrawn stated.

Ezra was solemn. "Yeah," He admitted.

Their allyship had only existed in those early days for the sake of survival. There were certain things they did not bring up after the fact. For example, Thrawn did not bring up Ezra's family, and Ezra didn't demean Thrawn's crew. However deep the Jedi's disdain went for him, regardless of the things he had done, it had a limit.

Thrawn had managed, very early on, to surpass it.

He did not remember much about the Chimaera touching down on that remote planet or the days and weeks afterward. He had conducted himself reasonably well, according to what Bridger had told him after he’d recovered. He had made shelter, giving his enemy-no-longer tools to aid in his own survival. But Thrawn had been wounded. He had not been able to treat himself as he should have. 

Perhaps it had been shock, or perhaps it had been the infection already holding him within its grasp, but he had taken ill. Dangerously, deathly ill. Thrawn had been hallucinating to say the least, according to what the young Jedi had been willing to impart. He hadn't seemed inclined to bring it up again, just as he hadn't wanted Thrawn's thanks for saving him, either. It had been the only indication that Ezra Bridger had felt guilty in any way for the harm that had come to him and his.

But he had mentioned one thing: He had called Ezra by the wrong name, and when Ezra had corrected him, he had made the jump from Ezra… to Eli.

Thrawn scrubbed one hand down the side of his face in a rare human-seeming human gesture. “This has happened to you before,” He speculated.

“Visions,” Ezra confirmed. “I’ve dreamt about things before they’ve happened… in a way. It’s, uh,” He looked a little subdued, “What I see isn’t exactly a guarantee.”

“And these events have been different,” Thrawn summarized. “How?”

“I’ve never felt like I was in someone else’s body, for one.” The Jedi squeezed his hands tighter around the mug. He always chose the chipped orange one. It was easily the most damaged of the trio of drinkware the small ship had accumulated in its travels but it had quickly and indisputably become the young man’s designated article. After a moment he began carefully tracing the rim of the cup with his finger, the motion seeming to help him settle. “He had asked me - whoever I was supposed to be - to take them… somewhere. I think. I remember feeling,” He frowned, still struggling to separate his feelings from those of whomever he felt he’d been taking the place of. “Frightened. My Cheunh isn’t good enough to know everything they were saying,” He admitted.

“You dreamed entirely in Cheunh.”

“Yeah. There were other Chiss, too. An older man, someone high ranking. He was pushy. Kept saying things about loyalty.”

“Loyalty is important to the Chiss,” Thrawn told him, again narrowing his gaze. “But you said these events have occurred already,” He tilted his head inquisitively. “How do you know?”

“Eli asked me - asked _them_ to take their ship to the _Chimaera._ ” He lifted his gaze to meet Thrawn’s eyes for the first time in several moments. “To you and Ar’alani.”

“I see,” Thrawn said, still in that carefully neutral tone. Ezra’s pronunciation of the name was significantly better. “Do you recall anything else?”

“It’s hard to keep it all straight, but I know that they were going to do it. Whatever he said, the stuff I couldn’t figure out how to translate…” He shook his head. “It was like they could tell he was a good person. They had outside influence from someone else, but…" He trailed off.

"We will work on your Cheunh," Thrawn decided, "So that you will better understand should this happen again."

Bridger nodded, shook up enough by his experiences not to comment snidely. "That's probably for the best," He said. When silence grew between us, he spoke up once more. "So, did that happen?"

Thrawn looked him over as he finally gave consideration to the cup of caf the young man had brought him. He wrapped his hands around the mug. His had better insulation than the Jedi's and was still more along the lines of hot than drinkably warm. He let the heat seep into his fingers.

"Yes."

Bridger made a gesture, his fingers unfurling from around his cup in an invitation to continue.

"I cannot speak to any other instances," He said, "But I believe the child whose perspective you experienced most recently was that of a Chiss Navigator by the name of Un'hee."

“Un’hee,” Ezra repeated quietly, mulling over the name. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Thrawn inclined his head. “Perhaps the name does not, but tell me: what do you know about other Force-sensitives abilities?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a busy weekend for the Divide. I'll be uploading at least chapters 11 and 12 this weekend, with the goal of giving you what I know you're waiting for. I'm impatient, too.
> 
> In the meantime, please enjoy this furthering of the plot.

Thrawn was really damn infuriating, Ezra thought. The Chiss was only speaking to him and Faro in Cheunh now, and about two days ago he had started speaking in a natural, much faster cadence. Ezra knew he wasn't the only one struggling. He'd caught Faro grumbling to herself in the cockpit about it yesterday. They'd had a drink over it, commiserating together. Thrawn drove his people hard, she'd said. For good reason, always, but that didn't make things easier for the people he was pushing at the time.

After his shift monitoring the ship's progress, Ezra had decided to move through lightsaber katas using a short pole found in the odds and ends crate in the hold to improvise, trying to remember all the things he had been taught but didn't practice nearly enough. In a lot of ways, this was easier than meditation when he was cooped up in a too-small space, and the ship definitely felt like it was shrinking by the day.

He moved fluidly through the forms, letting his mind drift to easier times. He would give anything - would never complain about training until his arms and legs felt like jogan jelly again, would even let Chopper throw things at his head - to have those times back. 

And yet, for all his pining for days gone by, something steadier inside himself knew that wasn't a productive thing to focus on. He remembered - even cherished - the good times, his family and even the friends he had gained along the way. But something was calling him.

Early on, it had been the whisper of the Force that had prevented Ezra from finding his own, solitary path after the _Chimaera_ had crashed. The Force hadn't failed him yet, so he had trusted it through all the awkwardness that came next, learning to live with his enemy. Learning to - in most ways, Ezra supposed - _trust_ that enemy.

And there were a lot of strange quirks about Thrawn that Ezra would not be able to tolerate if his entire species was the same. Were they all that infuriatingly smart? Did they all have that strange, aloof smugness about them? Did they all keep what were definitely feelings buried so deep down inside they'd never see the light of day?

Ezra was emotional. His love for his family, his trust in them and in the Force made him strong in mind, body, and spirit. He fumbled and floundered around a lot, but he tried not to sway in his convictions. He tried to listen, even when he didn't like what was being said to him. He still struggled with that.

The Force was telling him that there was something going on. There was something happening with these dreams he kept having, off and on, without any real pattern or reasoning. From what little Thrawn had been able to speak on the subject - and before he had gone full Cheunh, thankfully - the Chiss did not have Force powers like Jedi. And how could they? They lost their Force powers when they were around the age Ezra had been when he learned he had them!

That was insane, Ezra thought privately. He brought the pipe he'd been using back to his ready stance, sunk a little bit more into the Force, and bumped up the pace a little. The Force just didn't _stop_ , he thought. It didn't _leave_. It might go quiet, might not give the user the answers it wanted, but it existed despite everything.

Thrawn didn't call it the Force, though. He had called it _Sight_ , which Ezra assumed was because of the way these children used it. He wondered if someone like Master Yoda had heard of it, or even just a more traditional Jedi who remembered being around more than one or two others who had the Force would be better suited to understanding this mystery.

He slashed quickly through the air, rolled, returned to his feet, growled because he hadn't moved fast enough, and repeated the motion. He supposed it didn't matter who was better suited to understand, the Force had chosen him. The only real touchstone he had was this girl whose life he seemed to glimpse in his dreams. 

It wasn't a happy life. Thrawn had indicated that if he was correct - Ezra kind of really despised it, but the Chiss was usually right - and his dreams were moments in the life of the girl, Un'hee, that she had suffered at the hands of their enemy. Ezra didn't know how sensitive the girl was, couldn't tell, but he knew fear. And his dreams were seeped in it. He knew the Force was trying to tell him something, but he was very glad he wasn't having these dreams every time he'd closed his eyes. He had the one with Eli twice now, but the rest made him want to try and break out of the memory, had left him panting when he woke, anxious and terrified of what would have happened if things went wrong.

Thrawn would linger beside his cot after those. He didn't say anything, and he was difficult to understand in the Force when Ezra had himself together, much less when he felt like he was falling apart in sympathetic distress for someone else. Ezra wondered if he felt guilty, or maybe responsible. He didn't have the heart to lie about it, and he had come to realize that Thrawn probably wouldn't have wanted him to.

So Ezra would pant in the darkness until Thrawn set the lights to just dim enough to allow him to see, then he would return to his own cot across the room and pick up his questis. Thrawn could not anchor Ezra's meditations. Kanan and Ahsoka could, because they felt the Force. But Hera had always offered to linger, if no one else was available. She was a beacon of calm, like the eye of a storm. 

In his early teens, Ezra couldn't deny that he had been turbulent, emotionally. Hera was easier to cling to in the Force, and she didn't realize he was doing it. Thrawn didn't realize that Ezra let himself lean against his presence, and Ezra no longer hated that he did so.

Thrawn was not evil, Ezra had long since decided. Thrawn was complicated. Imperfect. Not infallible. He was a tool. In the way Ezra was an instrument of the Force, Thrawn had devoted himself to his people and acted in what had been their best interest.

What Thrawn had done, and who he had aligned himself with, _that_ was the evil. There were things he had done that couldn't be forgiven by Ezra. But Ezra had committed himself to this path that the Force had led him to, and he would help however he could. 

Not that the dreams were at all helpful in telling him what it was that he was supposed to _do_.

\----------

Preparations took time. Calculations. The bridge of the admiral's flagship was not the best place to be working through the data for their upcoming operation, but the admiral herself was occupied with her own tasks. As her second, Eli would make due.

He really shouldn't be their general. The title belonged to a more decorated, more experienced officer than the lieutenant commander he had been before. He had gone from never commanding a ship to commanding cobbled-together fleets and squadrons and consulting the admiral while she oversaw the greater war. He wasn’t doing nearly as bad as he’d thought he would. He typically had to prove himself to his subordinates, and he saw the irony of doing so. After all the time he’d spent with Thrawn, watching him allow others to target and harass him, he really didn’t know how Thrawn had handled it so gracefully. Eli had too much of a temper for that. He let as much as he could go, but he didn’t have Thrawn’s coolness. There had been several times where he’d felt compelled to put particularly obnoxious or infuriating parties in their place.

He worked hard to be the leader their people needed. Once, he had wondered if he could say with certainty that he was devoted to the greater Ascendancy over his people and the Empire. Not anymore. He might doubt his own worthiness of holding the title or the responsibilities, but he was what they had. Ar'alani had chosen him for a reason. 

And Eli trusted Ar'alani. 

Thus, Eli sat in the command chair on the _Steadfast’s_ bridge, splitting his time between overseeing their current fuel and munitions resupply - and by resupply he meant 'liberation of military grade weaponry and fuel from non- military, non- CDF forces' - and the upcoming Ufsa mission. The mission was not difficult, but the team required monitoring. Any errors would be difficult to correct if he was not immediately available. More than that, Eli’s presence was good for morale. He preferred calling it that to babysitting. 

In the meantime, until he was called upon by his bridge crew, the numbers were speaking to him. 

Samakro's data gave him the infrastructure. Communications frequencies, signal strength, trajectories, all of it wove a web he could unfurl within his mind. It told Eli that there were supplies they needed: the munitions and fuel necessary to power the tentative addition to their small, but capable fleet. 

Hence the importance of their current operation.

In open warfare, Eli had experience. He had stood beside two of the most capable beings in the galaxy, maybe even the universe, as they led their forces in battle. He had, since this infighting began, led Ar'alani's dwindling fleet in open battle against their own. It was a waste, and it was hardly the best course of action.

There were other, more subtle ways to wage war. Those particular methods were the ones Eli and Ar’alani preferred to engage in. More overt ops, like the one underway, were necessary to the overall plan. They looked like something to the other factions. The ruling families forgot that the CDF played politics just as much as they did. More than that, because of the nature of their true objectives - defense, stabilization - they had a more complete picture: knowledge of the dangers without, and of the self-inflicted ones within.

There were a great many variables necessary in their strategies.

"Sir," One of the weapons officers began, "Fighters are at optimal altitude and we're in position."

Eli nodded. "Good. Have the fighters begin their run. They need to be fast and precise. If they blow up the supplies before we can retrieve them, this whole exercise will be pointless."

And that would make their upcoming missions far more difficult. This was time sensitive, but Eli was certain they would succeed today. Their fighters had gotten better. Their officers had started coming into their own. They would cut off Ufsa's supply lines and make them turn to any potential allies for help. 

And Eli would be there, watching. They would make their move on Ufsa's fleet when it was seemingly crippled. Samakro believed he had the loyalty of all those under his command. Eli was sure Samakro did when he was following his family’s orders. But when he broke off, declared their fleet a part of the rightful military's forces, essentially committing treason against his family? It wouldn’t be so simple.

It already wasn't. Samakro couldn't tell from the data, but Eli could. He would see who was contacted and who bit, which families were willing to help and where their resources were hiding. The Ufsa family had been demoted and lost its ruling status. That sowed seeds of unrest within the family and its forces. They _seemed_ interested in allying with the smaller, less influential families, sure.

But the upper echelon - maybe not the Ufsa Patriarch, but others who controlled their necessary resources - were still in the Mitth family’s pocket. Eli didn’t feel bad about robbing them blind. He had had enough of these idiots fabricating their own war.

"Bombing runs are complete. Ninety-two percent of targets hit, we're collecting our spoils now."

Eli nodded to the lead comms officer, who opened the line to their pilots. "Excellent work. Lieutenant Shibu, have your forces do another sweep. Tell them to keep their eyes on the skies for an enemy patrol. It'll come."

The comms buzzed with atmospheric static. "Yes, General," The lead pilot confirmed. "Squad, form up. Keep your jammers up and your scanners running hot. If there's enemy craft, it's on us to stop them."

Very good, Eli thought. Lieutenant Shibu was a character. A former smuggler, too old to be a lieutenant and from a family at the very bottom of the Ascendancy's social hierarchy. Regardless of piloting skill, politics had denied them the right to the academy, and their family's history had prevented another, more powerful one from adopting them.

Eli knew that the Ascendancy's political leaders - anyone who wasn't forced to work in close quarters with him, really - looked down on him. He would never, without a lot of turnover (meaning a lot of death thanks to centuries old, war tested policies), be able to influence social reform. Hell, he had cracked the mystery of the navigators and the Chiss had taken that and twisted it to declare war on each other in the first place.

He shook his head. This was hardly the time to focus on those particular failures or his part in them. He should have seen that coming, but for now he could only focus on what they could do. In the immediate future, that meant resupplying their fleet and preparing for what would ultimately dissolve into battle with a divided Ufsa.

And after that, when Samakro and whatever forces he had managed to sway had joined them, then Eli would allow himself to worry about what had been broken in the Divide. He would require more calculations and data, more planning and definitely more people.

But more than that, Eli and Ar'alani were going to topple the Mitth family, expose Patriarch Mitth'urf'ianico, and show the Ascendancy it was fighting the wrong battle, they couldn’t do it alone.

They needed Thrawn.


	11. Chapter 11

"Admiral Ar'alani," Thrawn said, his voice almost pinched with relief and reserved eagerness. Beside Thrawn, Faro stood with Ezra. 

The admiral's blue-tinted projection as she appeared before them did not obscure her condition. She looked tired and worn in the midst of a trying campaign. Faro could understand that. She had only seen conflicts, not necessarily all-out war.

Ar'alani regarded Faro with a crisp nod, one Faro returned. Then, her gaze landed on Ezra, and it narrowed.

Ezra flinched a little. Faro didn't put a hand on his back like she probably should have. He would have to get used to it. If he thought this was bad, he was really in for it when he saw her in person. She did understand, though. Ar'alani was intimidating in a way that Thrawn wasn't. Her emotions were palpable and not far from the surface.

"Who is this?" She seethed in Cheunh, regarding Ezra. "I enlisted your former first officer, but I cannot handle any more-”

"He is," Thrawn interrupted her, then gestured to Ezra, _"Ozyly-esehembo."_

That changed the mood instantly. The Chiss admiral rubbed at her temples and sighed. “You attract outsiders and trouble everywhere you go, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” She growled.

Thrawn reacted with piqued interest rather than embarrassed reticence. Faro shouldn't have been surprised, it wasn't a Chiss thing. Thrawn was simply that unique, and this was his personality. “Admiral, if I may-”

The sound of something rattling on the other end, the projection shorting and coming back into focus interrupted Thrawn.

“You may not,” She said briskly, activating a secondary comm device with a flick of her wrist. She snarled, “Get them on comms, _now_. I will be on the bridge ninety seconds and I expect the fleet to be at full combat readiness.” Whatever confirmation came was staticky and distant, but it came immediately. Watching the Admiral’s fury dissolve into a regal facade was equal parts impressive and terrifying. “Your final coordinates will be sent to you in the next forty-eight hours with an itinerary to follow, depending on the outcome of our present operation.”

Thrawn frowned at her. “Admiral, we can-”

Ar’alani regarded Ezra. “Do you understand what I am saying, Sky-walker?”

Faro was surprised when Bridger nodded, his posture stiff and at attention. Was it Ar’alani’s tone or was there some structure in the Rebellion beyond given ranks and titles? “I understand you, Admiral,” He said. His inflection was a little off, but the words were passable.

“Are you capable of navigating your vessel at lightspeed?”

Thrawn watched Ar’alani and did not look at Ezra when the young man turned to him for guidance. He sighed. “In an emergency, I probably could,” The young man supposed. “But I have only dreamt about it before.”

The admiral’s eyebrows crept higher on her forehead. “Then you will continue as you have. We will send you an encrypted itinerary with coordinates and instructions for neutral space. You,” And this time her words were likely for Thrawn, though she directed them to the group, “Will not deviate from this plan, am I clear?”

They all responded with the snappy immediacy that military decorum called for, Faro and Ezra’s voices higher than Thrawn’s grave acknowledgement of the order.

“It will not be much longer,” Ar’alani said, rising from behind the desk she’d obviously sat at to contact them. The projector caught her from the torso up. She was dressed as she normally was, white tunic, admiral’s insignia. It was creased, though, an indication that she had been on duty for far longer than was appropriate. She said something else, a phrase of some kind that Faro could have sworn sounded familiar.

It was Ezra who responded in kind, his young voice calm and clear. The admiral inclined her head regally, and ended the transmission.

“I did not teach that to you,” Thrawn said in the resounding silence. Faro recognized it for what it was: a deflection. The interaction hadn’t gone how Thrawn had hoped.

The Jedi shrugged. “No, but I’ve heard it in my dreams,” He said.

Faro’s head swiveled to them when Thrawn remained quiet, like that was an acceptable response. “Excuse me? You _dreamed_ it?” Ezra flushed and Faro felt her eyes widen. 

Accusingly, she looked to Thrawn. “And you knew about this?”

Thrawn tipped his head in a curt nod. “The statement is customary. Akin to ‘good luck,’ in Basic,” He supposed.

“It’s a little more romantic than that,” Ezra said dryly. In Basic he continued, “'Warrior’s fortune?' That’s poetic.”

Faro made a show of crossing her arms. “No, no. Back to the part where the Jedi’s having dreams. You,” She threw her chin in Thrawn’s direction, “Are the one who trained me to pay attention to details. I’m not just going to let this go.”

“As you wish,” Thrawn said. “However I was under the impression that Bridger’s abilities were a source of discomfort to you.”

“Maybe a few weeks ago,” She supposed, “But I’m getting over it.” She turned to the Jedi. “Now fess up, kid.”

\----------

“Of course she sent you.”

Samakro was surprised to see Eli. Eli could see it, the distrust, the tension, a whole spectrum of emotion washing through him until it settled into a disturbed wariness. He might have known Ar’alani would order it, but execution was another thing. 

And oh, Eli knew that as well. How many times had he stood at Thrawn's side, watching well-to-do, supposedly non-xenophobic commanders and political leaders grapple with their true feelings upon their arrival? The answer was too many. 

Eli had wanted to wear standard CDF tactical gear. Black tunic and pants, black armor. Standard. Unassuming enough. Would it still anger most of their would-be allies? Probably.

But there was nothing for it. A general in the Chiss Defense Fleet traditionally wore white. And so he stood on the bridge of the _Springhawk_ , the stark contrast of his uniform and natural coloring an offense he couldn’t control. Looming ominously was his detail: six warriors, all armed with blasters and sharp eyes. He was used to offending both allies and enemies alike. It was just another day overseeing the Admiral’s fleet. He didn’t quite grin, but he didn’t flush under the scrutiny.

He had to tip his head up ever so slightly to hold the gaze of the taller Chiss Captain, but that was another thing he was used to. That, and he wasn’t one of those pugnacious-types to lose his cool because someone had a couple (or more than a couple) extra centimeters on him. His age was another factor, but he’d trained himself to be cognizant of the difference in years and myriad experience that others around him had. He couldn’t change it, and it was a part of him. 

“I’m the one Ar’alani trusts,” Eli said. 

“So you’re here to judge us?” A questioning voice from the area of the weapons stations called. Male, older. Gruff. Pushy, but not furious.

Samakro bristled, turning his gaze to the officer while Eli paid them no mind. “Mid-Commander Sarina,” He admonished, “That’s enough. The admiral has named this man her general and you will give him the same respect you give any other commanding officer.”

“If any of you want to leave,” Eli cut his gaze to the outspoken commander, “Go. The escape pods are yours.” He swung his dark gaze around the bridge. He had the attention of all. “Anyone who wishes to go will not be harmed.”

“No one is leaving,” Samakro snapped. “We did not agree-”

“This isn’t a debate, Captain,” Eli reminded, interrupting him to address his crew. “You will take no arms, and you will leave peacefully.”

“And if the Navigators wish to leave?”

That made the young General turn to face the speaker. A younger, fiery-eyed woman, not far from the helm console. He inclined his head to her. “I have yet to encounter a Navigator aboard this vessel. If they wish to leave with you, you may take them with you. But you will bring them to me so that they may have the option to do so willingly.”

“As if they’d choose service,” Another voice mumbled.

“The weapons officer has a point,” The captain muttered through clenched teeth, meeting Eli’s raised eyebrows. “They’re children.”

Yes, Eli thought. Which was why this entire situation was ludicrous. And why they’d brought more warriors than they’d divulged to Samakro. They were taking this ship whether he and his agreed or not. He’d prefer to do it without having to harm anyone, but he was prepared for a fight. It was clear, however, that Samakro wasn’t expecting one. Even those who had spoken up were tense, but their bark was worse than their bite. Some would leave, of that Eli had no doubt. But he hoped that Samakro’s faith in his peoples’ loyalty was not unfounded.

“They are Sky-walkers,” Eli countered. “And they know a hell of a lot more about things than you give them credit for.” He stepped around Samakro and approached the vacant navigator’s stations before turning back to face the crew. “A child trusts based on factors that are not rooted in politics.” Almost there. He finished with just a hint of that Chiss formality to stress his point. “As should we, as warriors of the Ascendancy _in its entirety.”_

\----------

Un’hee was good at slipping out of sight of the momishes. She had always been, but then again, she was good at making herself seem invisible. No one tended to notice an oriented navigator. The new additions, the ones whose thoughts and feelings bled into everything because they were so potent and loud, were always getting lost. They had a look, a way they held themselves that said they weren’t sure where they belonged yet, either.

She wasn’t very good at making friends with them, the other Sky-walkers, the would-be navigators. They had schooling she did not, little cliques of fellow sisters who they’d been with or knew from their academies. They were afraid of so many things. Un’hee was afraid, too, but their fear was that of the unknown. Un’hee’s fear was respectful. It was fear for the things she had lived through, the kind that came through experience. She may not have had her Sight for long, but she’d done more navigating for their enemies, and was more traveled than even some of the oldest navigators.

Maybe that was why her Sight had faded so early. It probably had a limit, and the Grysks had pushed her to the edge of it by overworking her. The ship rocked beneath her feet, the supports groaning a little. They might be engaging someone, but she didn't particularly care, too caught up in her own thoughts.

Sometimes she needed to get away from all of the other Sky-walkers, but most especially when she dreamed. When that happened, there were two places she went to. The first she had come from, taking her usual sleep blanket and dream journal. With Eli gone again, the space felt more empty than comforting, but more importantly the momishes would eventually come looking for her. 

The second place, the one where the momishes never ever bothered her, was the one place nobody ever went to unless there was trouble. But Admiral Ar'alani had promised her that her door was always open, a promise she had not made many others. Un'hee had tested it early. 

And after the Divide, when Eli had been injured and the warriors had abandoned their worn duty, Ar'alani and Un'hee had spent a great deal of time together. Ar'alani did not force her to speak of what troubled her. Instead, she was resolute and steady. She understood that Un'hee was a child and also independent. She did not presume that, as the adult, she knew everything.

And, like Eli, she was honest.

The door had one single pad beside it, flat and blue black glass that didn't appear to have any raised bits or buttons. Un'hee laid her hand against it gently, it swished beneath her palm, scanning, and opened with a metallic click-hiss. 

The admiral wasn't present, but her presence lingered. It wasn't warm sunlight as Eli's was, but rather the cool depths of an ocean, gentle waves that ebbed and flowed with power beneath. As long as Un'hee didn't touch anything on the admiral's desk, she wouldn't be in trouble. Ar'alani didn't have a sleep couch like Eli did, but Un'hee was small and the chairs across from the woman's desk were too big for her. 

Meticulously, Un'hee arranged herself on one of the large, plush chairs and sent a withering glance to her journal. She had dreamed of someone reaching out a hand, of eyes that were milk-bright and saw without seeing from behind a mask. She had felt warm wind run cold, and felt the lurch before the fall to her doom.

She had dreamed of letting go of the past, of the pain and the darkness and the guilt that was inside of her. She tucked her knees beneath her chin. Was it really that simple?

Un'hee didn't think it was. 

The dream had happened, and while frightening at the time it left vivid impressions, too. She picked up the pencil she tucked beneath the soft clasp that kept it closed. She closed her eyes, flipping to the first blank page she saw, and sketched what she knew.

There had been a ship, one that emerged from the smoky darkness, shaped like a jewel… 

\----------

The rendezvous point had been sent without issue. The transmission had been prompt, coming in less than thirty hours after Ar'alani had spoken to them. That was where the issues stopped.

"An asteroid belt," Bridger was saying. "And she wants us, in this tiny bucket of bolts, to just _jump_ into it?"

Faro bit her lip, refraining from mentioning that neither of them had a ship until they had so kindly attempted to commandeer hers. This was rude, even for Bridger.

"The orders did not say so specifically," Thrawn reminded the younger man. Ezra turned a rather heated glare on the Chiss in return. "However, the implication remains."

The former Imperial watched them continue, Thrawn smooth and confident, but almost with an edge to it. He didn't usually indulge Bridger in petty arguments if he could help it. Bridger, meanwhile, was pushing as he always did, but seemed almost mindful of some unspoken boundary. She considered them both.

Thrawn was… not nervous. He was too confident to ever show nervousness. That didn't mean that he was settled, though. He appeared calm, but he wasn't. It was written in the line of his shoulders and the stiffness of his back.

And Bridger had already picked up on it.

Was it empathy or Jedi mysticism?

Really, what it actually was was none of Faro's business, but she'd been stuck on this ship for weeks with the two of them and at this point the kid's antics were both a bane as well as a form of entertainment. Bridger rarely showed his more serious side, the one that said he'd grown out of the shaggy-haired, scruffy kid that he used to be. If he trusted Thrawn, that was best for everybody.

"She wants me to navigate to it," Ezra said. "Do all your people turn everything into tests?"

Thrawn considered him. "Hardly. Admiral Ar’alani would not fault you for choosing caution. She, like most Chiss, is quite cautious herself.”

"But?" The kid pressed. 

"What do you think?" Thrawn asked back.

Teaching moments, Faro recognized wryly, definitely relishing the aggravation on the kid's face. She lifted her gaze just in time to catch Thrawn's eyes as he watched her. That man missed nothing, she thought, abandoning the ruse in lieu of crossing her arms and watching them outright.

"I think that you think I can do it, but dreaming about it is not the same thing as actually doing it and I’d rather not kill us, test or not.”

“That is what I believe,” Thrawn confirmed. “But you are forgetting something.”

“Yeah?” Ezra frowned, hands going to his hips, posture defensive. “What’s that?”

Thrawn answered patiently, his tone educational, but careful. He was probably trying not to entirely anger Bridger. “Our orders did not say it was necessary to jump directly into the asteroid field. Instead, you could set coordinates for a safe location outside the asteroid belt, then guide the ship around any obstacles you encounter as a sort of practice, to determine your comfort level.”

“I don’t know,” He answered warily, but Faro saw the cogs turning in his brain, the way he was at least considering what Thrawn suggested as a possibility.

“Try.” Faro flinched at her former commander’s gravely tone, but Thrawn paid her no mind. He and Ezra were looking at each other, the Jedi not quite squinting but scrutinizing Thrawn closely with those midnight colored eyes. “You got us into this,” The former grand admiral said. “You can get us out.”

Ezra exhaled shakily. “It’s not my fault if I get us killed,” He said.

“You will not,” Thrawn assured him.


	12. Chapter 12

Ar’alani accepted Samakro’s - the Ufsa family’s military force’s - surrender before he had taken more than two steps off the ramp in the _Steadfast’s_ hangar. Eli could see his barely concealed discomfort. The shame was far worse than anything to most Chiss, it seemed. Ar’alani was not kind to them beyond the basic cordiality extended to allies.

Trust had been broken. They had sworn oaths and abandoned the entirety of those they served to please their families. Yes, Eli understood the Chiss governing body and its rules. There were some things - a lot of things, really - he could even agree they executed better than the Empire. But the Ascendancy was smaller, both in population and in number of worlds.

To Eli, none of that really mattered beyond logistics. The thing was simple: regardless of species or alignment, people were people. Some were good, some were evil. His goal was not to judge those who had chosen wrongly. His goal was to protect them from the threats without - the Vagaari, the Grysks, the unknown that lurked in the Chaos. They would never love him, and he didn't expect them to.

He crossed his arms pensively, meeting Ar'alani's furious eyes. She was exhausted. Red eyes hid how bloodshot they got, but the glow gave them away. At least, to a human they did. Other Chiss were either polite or there was a slight disadvantage to their ability to see within the infrared.

"Take them to my ready room," Ar'alani ordered the warriors carefully guarding the returned captain and his trusted officers.

The warriors did not touch Samakro, who held his head high, but he realized the gesture for what it was. He was to be interrogated by the admiral. And he had better have answers. He moved stiffly, not quite nailing Ar'alani or Thrawn's easy confidence. He tried, but stopped abruptly, eyes drawn to the observation deck above.

It was a lesson in humility, Ar'alani had said to him, the first time. It had been agreed upon that the Navigators deserved to know what was happening, to see the faces of those who chose to change sides if that was what they wished. Of course, the children were behind opaque shields and flanked by armed warriors on the off chance something untoward was attempted, but Eli hated the event that it had become almost as much as he understood its necessity. Still, this was what they had chosen, and he would respect that. He would not force them into - or out of - anything that did not threaten their lives directly.

These children did not have childhoods. They were lofted as gifted and precious and used for their abilities. But it did not change that they were taken, whether it was considered an honor or not. Eli could not fathom being in their position. Ar'alani herself had said she was grateful she'd been able to choose her path, that she had _wanted_ to serve.

There were at least fifty of them, mostly the older girls with a few stony faced boys mixed in. They looked down at the hangar, at Samakro and his officers, the loudmouthed ones who had balked when Eli had told them that the Navigators were allowed to choose their sides, to want what they felt was right for them. Only now did they realize that it was not some ploy. Eli and Ar’alani - the CDF, what was left of it - were on the side of the Ascendancy. That meant every Chiss, including the Navigators.

"It feels like we're on trial," The weapons officer muttered, shuddering slightly.

The children did not speak. They watched, their glowing eyes turned upon the newcomers with the same wary distrust that Samakro had given Eli. Samakro must have realized this because he turned to face him. 

The captain was smart. He had made the wrong choice, but had slowly worked to correct it. Eli didn't know of many Chiss willing to admit fault, but he would find favor with them if he stayed true. These children had an affinity for forgiveness. But they would never forget.

"What will happen to our Sky-walkers?" He asked, voice carefully neutral.

"They will be escorted here and evaluated. Treated, if it is required."

"We wouldn't hurt them!" Samakro's first officer exclaimed, two of the warriors acting as the groups' guards flinching toward them. They had tears in their eyes. "We just-"

"I understand," Eli said, and to an extent, he did. The Chiss trended towards reserved, aloof demeanors but they felt emotions just as keenly as Eli did. "But that's the protocol we've developed. It's for their safety as much as it's for our peace of mind." He frowned. "And sometimes we don't always see reason when we believe we're doing what's best. Righteousness is just as blind as villainy in a lot of ways."

"Spoken like a true Wild Space-"

"That's enough, Mid-Commander," Samakro growled, instantly turning the other direction to regard his snarling subordinate. “Eli is your general and you will treat him with respect." The officer silenced, he turned back, nodding once to Eli. "And another thing: he isn't wrong."

Ar'alani paused at Eli's side when the group had disappeared down the dimly lit corridor. "That sounded like progress," She supposed. "I suspected that you would face hostilities."

"It was," Eli agreed, hands folding behind him in parade rest. “Samakro came across like he actually supported me this time," He added wryly. "They were slightly less cordial than you on the trip here, but I think they’ll come around.”

"They will,” She agreed. “And with less theatrics now that Samakro has actually yielded to your leadership." She did not smile but there was a trace hit of amusement in her gaze. "He is not a bad officer,” She said. “He will be useful.”

“Yes,” Eli agreed. “Hopefully the adjustment period won’t be too difficult.”

At that, Ar’alani grinned. “Do not lie to me, Eli,” She said, white teeth gleaming. “You enjoy watching your troops acclimate our…” She paused to consider the right word. “Reacquisitions.”

He shook his head, a little bashful, face flushing just enough to catch her notice at being caught. “Nothing gets past you, Ar’alani.”

“No,” She acknowledged simply. It was fact, after all. “It does not.”

\----------

Thrawn had been there when he’d come out of the meditative state required to navigate their transport at lightspeed. He’d been there the whole time, Ezra suspected, not so much because he distrusted Ezra’s abilities, but because he was aware that the second set of eyes might be comforting for him as he attempted the unknown. The Chiss had been clinical and yet understanding, explaining what was normal for Chiss when they emerged from this state.

Ezra had not felt horrible, though. He hadn’t felt dizzy or had the sparkle-vision that Thrawn had outlined, though he couldn’t deny that his head was pounding. He’d taken Thrawn’s suggestion to give himself some time to reacclimate before trying to get up afterward, which probably abated the other symptoms the Chiss had described. 

The final leg of their journey had been overseen by Faro, who had appeared not long after Ezra had risen from the pilot’s chair and stretched. Thrawn had dismissed himself without so much as a word, clearly lost in his thoughts. Faro hadn’t wanted much to do with him either. She’d thrown her head in the direction of the galley, a wordless order to eat something before they were occupied with what would come after.

He wouldn’t miss this. He didn’t hate Faro, and his relationship with Thawn was… complicated but not the hostile speeder-crash it used to be. He’d come to trust Thrawn out of necessity - their lives had depended on each other at several points in the past years - and he wasn’t sure they would ever consider themselves friends, but the guy wasn’t the worst person he’d ever met. 

Though, something about the Force - it churned with a strange feeling of excitement, a strange tingling throb of possibility - told him to reserve judgement on Thrawn entirely. The feeling had been building, and by the time they’d actually made their way through the oddly rotating asteroid field only to find ships: more than a dozen sleek and small battle frigates, eight mid-sized ships, and another vessel that was larger than the rest, but smaller than a star destroyer.

He knew he probably should have, but the sight of the foreign ships made Ezra lose track of whatever it was Thrawn was saying over the comms channel. Instead, he was pulled back from his thoughts with a jerk when the ship’s controls were overwhelmed by the large warship’s tractor beam and they were guided smoothly beneath it, into the concealed maw of its hangar.

For some reason, Ezra had expected things to be a bit more lively, but the hangar was mostly dark and quiet. There were fighters in various states of repair, some being worked on by techs whose equipment threw sparks. The admiral had been concerned about him and yet there were no armored guards in sight by where she stood, patiently waiting.

Thrawn and Faro had both snapped to attention the moment the Chiss woman’s gaze had been directed their way. She was even more stern in person, her bright eyes piercing and bright with a sort of gleam he’d never seen in Thrawn’s. She was perceptive, he could tell. Intelligent. Not someone to mess with. She wore the same crisp white Thrawn had when he’d been a grand admiral, but with a blue circle design. Ezra knew without question that she was a leader. _The_ leader.

And, if he was reading her right, from the way she held the other Chiss’s gaze, she was very, very concerned about Thrawn.

Ezra wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting of other Chiss. Ar’alani addressed Thrawn first as he thought she might, waving off Thrawn’s formality, the held pose. “It has been more than a decade since I have seen you properly, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” She said, adding in a way that might have been lighthearted, “You look terrible.”

“It is... good to see you too, Admiral.”

She shook her head, addressing Faro next. “And you have done the Ascendancy - and me, personally - a great favor.”

“It was my pleasure, Admiral Ar’alani,” Faro said crisply. “I was just happy it was a success.”

Ar’alani looked to Ezra last. “And you,” She said, fixing him with a scrutinous gaze. “I do not believe Mitth’raw’nuruodo divulged your name.”

Ezra looked at Thrawn, then back at her. “Ezra, ma’am,” He said, using the Cheunh word. “Ezra Bridger.”

She considered him a moment, then let her eyes sweep the rest of the unassumingly large area. “What would you prefer to be called?”

“Ezra is fine,” He said. “Unless you’d prefer I use my entire name, in which case I-”

“Ezra will do,” She said, carefully pronouncing his given name before nodding swiftly. “Come,” She beckoned toward an ancillary hatchway. “We will take the more covert route.” 

The admiral’s covert route was to a medbay. It made sense, he had supposed that they would be scanned and examined to a degree, but the medic seemed moderately interested in the differences in their biology. To Ezra’s surprise, she was waiting outside the small treatment bays. 

“He is well?” She asked without preamble, her voice curling with unrestrained curiosity.

“The,” He paused, fumbling to remember the word, “Uh, the medic should be able to tell,” he said.

“I am not asking about his physical health,” She said. “You have spent the most time with him in recent history.” Each word was terse, annunciated. _“Is he well?”_

“I think,” Ezra admitted, trying to properly pronounce the foreign words. “But Chiss and humans are not the same, so…”

The admiral hummed, seeming annoyed by the answer. “We are not as different as you think, Sky-walker.” She paused as if remembering herself. “Ezra.”

Faro and Thrawn had joined them not more than a few moments afterward. With the medic’s go-ahead, the admiral led them in the direction of her office. Ezra suspected it was located towards the upper deck of the ship. He doubted the admiral’s office would be far from the bridge.

They traversed the majority of the ship without any interruptions. It was as if any prying eyes had been diverted. Maybe they had been. It felt unnatural, not that Ezra had any idea how ships of this size functioned in a foreign military.

Except… he’d dreamed about it, briefly. The halls were usually full of officers en route to different destinations, resolved to complete their tasks. Ahead of them, he could almost sense a trace amusement admiral, as if the situation was funny for some reason. He couldn’t figure it out.

Inside the admiral’s office was a young woman around Ezra’s age. Like all the other Chiss he’d seen she had blue skin and glowing eyes, but hers were alight with something playful and youthful, less serious and battle-hard. She held out a questis for the admiral as she passed, and with the other hand she indicated for her guests to sit.

“Navigator Vah’nya,” Thrawn acknowledged, voice mild as if possibly surprised? Ezra still had trouble telling if he was being casual or if he was caught off guard.

“Hello, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” She responded, a brilliant smile breaking out on her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Welcome back.” He nodded his thanks, and she turned back to the white-clad senior officer.

“He moved up the war-council meeting,” Ar’alani said, looking at the questis. “This is not my device.”

“He did,” The woman called Vah’nya confirmed. “I thought you-”

“No,” The admiral interrupted, “But it was for the best. We will likely be here a while.” She evaluated the questis. “I take it he also switched our bridge shifts?”

Vah’nya looked a touch embarrassed, but unlike a human she didn’t seem to blush. “He did.” She smiled, eyes darting to Thrawn briefly before returning to Ar’alani. “You know how the general is, ma’am. He worries.”

“He does,” Ar’alani allowed, and the ghost of a smile crossed her features in the space between two blinks. Ezra caught Faro’s confused expression, but the woman had been mostly silent since they arrived. “See to it that quarters are prepared for them, lieutenant. Have their belongings moved from their ship as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That will be all,” She dismissed.

“You have been promoted?” Thrawn asked. “Most impressive, Lieutenant Vah’nya.”

Vah’nya smiled, crossing her arms over her own questis, held against her chest. “Thank you,” She said. “I am pleased with the path I have chosen.” She nodded politely to them all as she left, and Ezra could have sworn she was humming quietly under her breath. A melody of some sort. Definitely not military protocol, but the admiral didn’t seem to mind.

When the hatch had closed behind the young woman, Thrawn asked, “She is your aide?”

“Do you approve?” Ar’alani asked in reply.

“Of course,” Thrawn said. “In speaking with her during our first meeting I found myself rather impressed with her resolve.”

Ar’alani smirked. “Of course you would.” She shared a glance with Faro.

The human must have felt comfortable with speaking up, because she chuckled as she said, “You did let her give orders to fire on the Grysks from the _Chimaera_.”

“Wait, what?” Ezra hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until all eyes were on him. And, judging by the tilt of the admiral’s head, he’d spoken in Basic. Quieter, he hissed, “Karabast.”

Thrawn didn’t rebuke him. Calmly and in Cheunh, he merely explained. “I encountered then-Navigator Vah’nya while I had been called away from Lothal.”

“When-”

“Yes,” Thrawn said, and nothing more. Ar’alani catalogued the exchange with keen eyes. 

“Ah,” Ezra replied, blinking owlishly. “Well that’s… something.”

“Yes,” Ar’alani cut in, deadpan, but she did not ask Ezra for more details, to his surprise. “We did not allow navigators to remain on the bridge during combat, and he’d given her permission to lead a battle without my say-so.”

“Did not?” Thrawn questioned.

Ar’alani did not roll her eyes. She did, however, rest both elbows on the desk she’d sat behind, her chin resting atop both entwined hands. “You are fishing, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

“Forgive me, Admiral,” He said tactfully. “I merely wished to know how drastically different things are.”

“Drastic is one way to put it,” She supposed, spitting the first word like it had a bad taste. “I will not tell you everything now. You’ve seen the fleet,” She said.

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “It was impressive.”

“Impressive,” She repeated bitterly. “There are hardly two battle groups.”

“There is plenty that can be done with two battle groups, even if it is not the greater fleet.”

“Thrawn, this-” She closed her eyes. It didn’t look like much beyond contemplation to Ezra, but the young Jedi didn’t know her like Thrawn did. Thus, Ezra was forced to watch Thrawn’s expression shift from collected calm to pre-emptive horror as he realized what she was saying before she could form the words. 

“This _is_ the greater fleet,” She admitted. “This is what remains.”

\----------

Their conversation had been stilted at best once Thrawn understood the situation. At least, what little of the situation that Admiral Ar’alani would impart with Faro and Ezra in the room. Faro understood why the admiral would withhold information from them. Thrawn, she suspected, would be given more information but carefully.

Ar'alani knew Thrawn better. Whatever Faro thought she saw - displeasure, anger, false calm - it was clear that Ar'alani was planning her statements to try and lessen the blow. She'd been honest, humble in a way she usually wasn't. Faro had noticed this the last time, but it was more obvious with Thrawn around to ask questions and just generally lean toward her expertise as he tried to figure things out.

And that was very interesting. They were on route to the _Steadfast's_ commissary, Thrawn and Ar'alani all but walking in perfect sync while Faro and Bridger trailed behind them. The young Jedi was pensive, sneaking little looks at the older Chiss when he thought they weren't looking. Faro had watched Ar'alani catch him at least three times but not comment on it. Ar'alani was watching Thrawn, who, to an outsider, looked just fine.

Faro would say that he was fine, all things considered, but that there was a very good chance that he was full of questions that Ar'alani had asked him to hold for the time being. It must be eating at him to be so close to the information and not be able to ask. Taking them out of her office and into the rest of the ship was probably for the best, as Thrawn would be limited by decorum (as much as he ever was, anyway) and the confidentiality required of such need to know information. Yes, to Faro, he seemed as in control as he ever was, which made what came next even more impactful.

Ahead of them, where the corridor intersected another hallway, a group of soldiers crossed their path, like a meeting had let out. They scattered, some coming towards and passing them, others carrying on their path to a number of different places aboard the warship. Those who passed gave a nod of acknowledgement to the admiral, but did not stop or comment on the group of nonuniform beings with her. They didn’t spare them a glance. She recognized techs and lesser officers, even pilots, dressed in flight suits. 

And she noticed when they all parted for a group of what had to be senior officers.

“That is not what I am saying,” A tall, short-haired Chiss male was refuting, “This is a longshot.”

“It’s not the standard, sure,” Came the reply in a familiar tone, similarly out of view. “But I’ve run the numbers, and I know it’ll work.” Faro couldn’t help it, she leaned forward slightly, willing them to move just a little faster, though Ar’alani had slowed. “Tehke, if you wouldn’t mind, I could use your assistance before we send the fighters out.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” A came the deadpan reply of a decidedly more feminine-sounding voice. “I’m sending the schematics to Captain Samakro’s questis now.”

The reply was forthcoming. “I appreciate it. Once you finish equipping the fighters with what we have in mind, find me on the bridge to go over the final plans.”

The woman appeared in the intersection between corridors, making a complete turn and facing the direction she had come. She was a Chiss with what Faro assumed was an unorthodox haircut - shaved sides and small, mussed spikes on top - nothing like the elegant length of Ar’alani or Vah’nya’s locks. She looked left to the admiral, but her eyes trailed over the rest of them before she looked back toward the group of officers. Then, she stiffened to attention as if she’d always been military, though it was clear she was not, facing the speaker - Faro knew it had to be him, she just knew - who still remained infuriatingly out of their view. Faro chanced a glance at Thrawn. He had stopped in his tracks, also listening. Ar’alani must have caught the lack of movement, coming to a stop with Ezra on her heels.

“Anything for you, General,” The woman drawled with an undercurrent of respect that was not nearly as formal as any of the other Chiss moving around her in the corridor. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Good. Thank you, Tehke.”

Faro blinked with a sudden awareness, as if time had stopped, reset, started again when the woman came toward them, obviously headed for the hangar. She sized them up obviously. Not negatively, simply with interest. As if she’d been waiting for this. Maybe she had.

“Tehke,” Ar’alani warned.

The woman, Tehke, responded with something soft and subdued, inclining her head to the admiral with unguarded respect. The woman’s expression changed the moment she passed the admiral, but Faro didn’t have time to catalog the change. She caught the flinch directly ahead of her at just the right time, tilting her head to see what had - even if he was expecting it - stilled Thrawn.

He didn’t stop, didn’t seem to notice them like she thought he would. He moved briskly, was in view for seconds - a few short strides - before he was gone again, officers and techs following him, engaging him in conversation about whatever their next mission was. If she hadn’t known how few humans the Ascendancy employed, she might have thought it was someone different. But no. That voice, his features did not lie.

Neither did Thrawn’s blatant surprise. It had taken him a solid five-count to follow Ar’alani and Ezra when the passageway had cleared. Faro couldn’t blame him. She was surprised, too. But more than that, she was impressed, the initial shock burning off into happiness for a man she’d considered a comrade and friend.

That had been Eli Vanto, an oasis of white and brown in a sea of glowing red, black, and blue.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably really should be proofread but I promised a reunion this weekend and one party seeing the other doesn't exactly deliver. Please accept this while I work on the coming chapters.

“That was him, wasn’t it?” Ezra asked her as quietly as he dared, the moment they were alone. “I mean, I’ve-" He paused, _"Y'know_ , but he didn’t look like that.”

‘Yes,” Faro said, refusing to get involved any more than she had to. She was curious - beyond curious - about what was going on, of course, but she wasn’t half as desperate as the Jedi was. “That was Vanto.”

Ezra shrugged. “Huh.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Faro had since changed into military fatigues - she had missed them, and what they represented in her life: stability and order - and was preparing to use the small room with four bunks for its intended purpose as soon as the kid finally stopped talking. A sleep shift aboard a large vessel was akin to what she pictured as the epitome of safety and comfort. She didn’t dare say that to Bridger though, who had already carried on about how he slept better in smaller transports. “If you have a question, spit it out,” She considered. “Better yet, why don’t you ask Thrawn directly?”

“Because.” The kid looked away guilty, and Faro suspected he’d probably tried to figure out how Thrawn was doing with the Force, but didn’t want to say as much. “He’s probably two seconds away from making sure we’re set for the sleep cycle before he goes and tracks her down.” Bridger hissed, even quieter, “Why’d he get thrown in with us, anyways?”

“Maybe because he’s spent more time with humans in the last decade than his own people. I was told he was exiled, and I monitored his transmissions. If he’d been talking to the Chiss, he wasn’t coming out and saying it on any Imperial radar.” She glared down at him from her bunk. “Or, maybe Admiral Ar’alani wants him to keep an eye on us. I don’t know about you, but it’s pretty clear that the Chiss who saw us weren’t exactly pleased about more humans in their midst.”

Bridger flopped into the bunk beneath the one she’d claimed for herself, punching his standard-issue pillow, then fluffing it, surprised at the quality. Faro could agree. The Chiss, for a people who were clearly not doing well, war considering, did have some pretty nice amenities.

“That probably has something to do with the Divide,” Ezra said. “And what Ar’alani hasn’t told us.”

“It most certainly does,” Thrawn called from outside their sleeping quarters. His voice had never wavered from its normal, smooth and even cadence, had never pitched or rolled with any sort of unease. He didn’t even seem bothered that the two of them were more or less gossiping about him, either. Then again, he never did. And Faro had caught him overhearing some rather derogatory and explicit ones. “If you both wish to sleep, I will toggle the hatch,” Thrawn said. He was sitting in one of the high backed chairs in what was clearly a common room, fingers curled around his questis. “I do not wish to disturb you.”

“Aren’t you exhausted?” Ezra asked. “We’ve been up for way over a standard day.”

That was true. Ar’alani and Thrawn had talked and talked, without rest, and then things had been turned on Ezra and Faro, there had been more discussions, and all of it had only stopped when Ezra had started to nod off against his own free will when the Admiral had stepped out of her office to handle something in another part of the ship. They hadn’t even had a tour of the vessel they were going to be on for the foreseeable future.

Ezra had perked up at the prospect of getting cleaned up - a hot shower, (more) hot food, a military issue bed - but it wouldn’t be long before he was asleep. Faro could handle herself - she’d been trained on how to function without sleeping or with only sleeping very little - but even she could agree that rest was something they all desperately needed.

“I am not tired yet,” Thrawn said, and rose, keying the hatch to separate them with the finality indicating there would be no questions, and the conversation was over. It was quiet enough, and the walls were thin enough to hear him moving on the other side of the door.

Faro tried to stay awake long enough to hear when Thrawn would inevitably dress in the uniform he’d been given when he’d been formally given his former title and leave to seek out Ar’alani. Probably not Vanto. He’d want more information than the meager bits and pieces he’d been given. Maybe one of them would come to him, though, and she could find out more. If they did, it wouldn’t have mattered. Try as she might, the activities of the last few days had taken their toll. In the bunk below her, Ezra’s breathing was slow and steady, and she drifted off knowing that Thrawn probably wouldn’t join them tonight.

\----------

Ar’alani had been waiting for Eli to join her. She did not waste time with words, instead jerking her head in the direction of the second meal she requested to be brought to her office from the ship’s kitchens. She continued scrolling through reports, refusing to acknowledge him until he’d finished and had leaned back in her reflection chair, his back to her memory wall.

"So?" He asked.

Her eyes slid to the right, regarding him warily. "The medical screen pronounced him in good health," She said. "But he is worried."

"Of course he is," Eli said. "Vah’nya said he looked worn. How much have you told him?"

"Only as much as I've had to. You were conveniently absent," She reminded pointedly.

Eli flushed. "I didn't want to skew your perception," He said hastily.

She folded her hands on her desk. "You would not have. I suspect it would have made him feel more at ease."

"Probably," He agreed, "But with Samakro's forces one of us needs to be available before critical ops. There's no way-"

"Yes," She said tersely, reaching for the remote that controlled her overhead projector. She rose as the lights dimmed automatically to optimize the projection. "I am well aware. I am not criticising your judgement call." She crossed her arms as she toggled the map. The current data being fed to it displayed their trajectory and marked potential enemies, contested areas, and threats.

“Would you pull up the other map?” He asked. “If you don’t mind. I’ve made some progress on trade routes and shipping lanes. I think we might have an in.”

“Lieutenant Shibu?”

“Yes.” He said, as the map of the more frequently traversed routes around Csilla. “They need a ship and five crew. With that, they think they can disrupt the controlled routes around Csilla. Assuming you still want to try.”

Ar’alani considered the new map between them as Eli pushed out of her reflection chair and let his feet touch down on the floor. It had been meticulously plotted out with routes color-coordinated by frequencies and destinations that indicated the family served. “Not now. We need to make sure that our newest additions are truly the allies they claim to be.”

“Samakro did vouch for all of them, personally.”

And there was his arrival in the hangar to consider. Even so, “He did, and yet Samakro changed sides twice, himself.”

Eli conceded the point with closed eyes and an understanding nod. He circled around behind the admiral’s desk, taking his questis. “We wouldn’t be able to support them,” He agreed. “Shibu has proved themself a good officer.”

“Yes. And we should not put them in a position that would endanger them, much less a crew.” She waved her hand as the map switched back to the Greater Ascendancy. She set the remote down on her desk. “Right now the largest threat is from without. We are too close to contested space. We could defeat most Grysk forces with a group of this size,” She said. “But if they are able to identify and report the presence of so many-”

A knock on the office door had Eli turning to face her, a question burning in those dark eyes. He wasn’t a fool. He had to know Thrawn would seek her out eventually, that he would come here. He would not rest without answers. Neither of them would. 

“Ar’alani-”

She turned her back on him, going to the door without turning the overhead lights on. “We have been expecting you,” She said, light spilling in from the hatchway as it opened to reveal Thrawn. “Come in.”

She saw Eli recognize the look of confusion, the brief flicker of emotion - was that _unease?_ \- that crossed Thrawn’s face. It disappeared quickly, hidden beneath that typical, flawless Chiss facade. He entered and paused, hands falling behind his back in parade rest.

“Admiral Ar’alani,” He said silkily. His eyes flicked to Eli. “General.”

“Hello, Thrawn,” Eli returned, meeting Thrawn’s gaze steadily, like a man who recognized an ally, an equal. 

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Ar’alani said, with a waspish severity that didn’t match the brightness of her eyes. She wondered what her general read of it. Obvious amusement, but she doubted he missed her concern. “We were just discussing what is to come. You are welcome to weigh in. We could use the perspective.”

Thrawn’s head shook silently in the negative, just once, a tiny flick. It was never the easy path with him, she should have known.

Eli sighed. “Well, we already know we’re not going anywhere for at least another cycle. Let’s do this tomorrow,” He said, issuing the order to bring the lights up to half brightness while Ar’alani turned off the projector. Eli stayed where he was while Ar’alani returned to her desk. “You have questions, right?” He asked.

The inviting tone must have surprised Thrawn, because he stared after the human for a second too long. “A few,” He said, but did not elaborate.

“Well,” Ar’alani gestured to the twin chairs across from her desk. “Sit down and let us discuss.” She looked to Eli. “You should go check on the bridge. You needed to see him. Now you have,” She said, in a way that said that they would do this right, not gang up on him in a way that would feel like two against one.

“You got it.” Quieter, with a glance at Thrawn, he continued. “Thank you,” He said, and left without another word. The hatch snapped shut with a sort of finality, then Ar’alani and Thrawn were alone.

"I had thought seeing Eli would soothe you somewhat," Ar'alani said, almost gently. She did not speak down to him like he was a child who needed to be placated, but her words were less blunt than they usually were, like they were younger people.

"It was good to see him," Thrawn mused aloud. "What I had heard was not-"

"Ah," Ar'alani said. "Talk has gotten out that far?" She shook her head. "Your former aide would not betray you. Certainly you should know that."

"I do," Thrawn was quick to correct. "But I was unable to confirm as such with facts."

"He has done well," She said. "Once he knew what he was looking at - the context was of assistance. Motivation. It took him months to figure out what we have spent," She waved an elegant hand to mark an extremely long period of time, "Too long to figure out ourselves." She gave him time to soak the information in, then gestured toward the space between them. “Ask your questions, Thrawn. I will tell you everything I am able.”

\----------

There were always times at the beginning of a new situation in which there were more questions than answers. Thrawn was a patient, meticulous man. He did not enjoy waiting weeks to find out about recent events within his peoples' borders or the reasons behind them, but he bore it in reasonable silence. The moments leading up to receiving the information - knowing that it was within reach if only one were to ask - were the hardest. Anticipation built with the natural fear of the unknown. 

And worst was knowing one catastrophic detail - that this was the fleet, the entirety of an entire civilization's military - while the rest was obscured and just outside of reach.

Thrawn had grown used to coexisting with uncertainty. He was not overly afraid of uncharted paths and often looked forward to having them, even, just to see how a situation would evolve and others, the environment - any of it, really - would react. This had been nearly enough to undo him.

He, as always, would persevere, however the reality of the situation was hardly lost on him. They were not fighting a battle won by reasonable means. His people had…

What had they done?

They had discussed the event most called the Divide like it was any other historical event. The Syndicure and the Admiralty had summoned them - Admiral Ar'alani and Lieutenant Commander Eli'van'to - to present information Vanto’s research had uncovered regarding the navigators. There had been a terrorist attack during the session, a bomb that had instantly killed the rest of the admirals and injured some of the lesser-families' representatives. Ar'alani had mentioned her suspicion of the events as they were unfolding, and that she had not wanted to share the data, but her people had talked. Politics, as usual, were a powerful motivation. 

For all he endured in the Empire, he did not feel he understood politics any better than he had twenty years earlier. In some cases, politics translated to patterns. In others, certain evil could be discerned. His people were not truly evil, that much he knew. There was always more to learn.

But not now. Speaking of the event itself was something Ar'alani didn't enjoy, he could see it on her face. Something about the event had changed her, something she was not ready to speak about. Thrawn knew better than to push her. Not _everything_ had changed. She did not withhold information without good reason. He trusted that she would divulge whatever she’d held back with time.

The ship, though stationary, was a balm of its own. The tiny freighter they had used to come here had served its purpose. But it was not the same as a warship, a vessel such as this one. The halls were familiar, the layout of this ship - like so many others of its kind - long since memorized. Things were not, would not be, normal. There had never been any such thing. Temporary balance. Symmetry. ...Understandings. Thrawn had long since understood that nothing remained without change.

Learn and adapt so as to overcome, or accept defeat. Those were the options.

Ar’alani always kept her ships darker than usual, the lights far dimmer than most other CDF vessels. It promoted calm and reduced stress on sensitive Chiss eyes. It kept the crew quieter, more mindful of the volume of their voices, with rare exception.

Children’s voices carried through the corridor. Navigators, Thrawn realized. Young ones. It was not the Navigator’s section. It dawned on him that he had not spoken to Ar’alani about Bridger’s dreams, and his presumption that they were about Un’hee. Perhaps it was some strange Jedi-enhanced version of Third Sight? He was not certain. Even so, he knew he could not return to Ar’alani to question it now.

Refocusing, he considered the location of this passageway in proximity to where he knew the Navigators’ Section would be. It was nowhere close. That was interesting. Ar’alani had explained what was happening with the Sky-walkers, and the actions it had forced her into taking. She had not told him the sheer quantity of them, even just this small section of the ship housing the gifted children suggested that there were far more than there should have been aboard. How many? Thrawn wondered. From which families.

More questions. Less answers.

There was an open door at the end of the hallway just before it intersected with one of the larger, main passageways that cut through the true middle of the ship. The hum of electronics, the clicking sound of someone shifting through holo-images on a projector. 

“Look, all I’m saying,” A female Chiss intoned, “Is that these resources are finite and you break a questis, a comm… _something_ every damn day.” She growled, and the sound of something clattering against a workspace was loud in the quiet. “At some point I’m going to give you a pad and pen and you can write your notes on paper.

“Tehke,” Another voice came, tense but not hostile. Holding a secret they did not want shared. “I get it, you’re mad-”

It was Vanto’s voice. Naturally. Thrawn had been desperate not to think about the human. His former aide. His _friend._ Since he had seen a glimpse of him hours ago, Thrawn had been unable to push the image of the man - white-clad and confident, a leader comfortable in his element, so innately _human_ in a way that told Thrawn he had not compromised to earn his subordinates’ respect - from his mind. Seeing him earlier had not been easy, nor had it been to see him in the admiral’s office. Vanto had not done anything wrong, as he suspected - as he had hoped. But it had been difficult to face him with that uncertainty unresolved.

“Mad! I’ve only been up for four days, the same as you. I know you humans need sleep so you’re cranky, but give me a break.”

“It wasn’t me,” He said, voice quiet. “It was an accident. Replace the screen, please.”

The woman sighed. “She’s lucky she’s a tortured soul.”

“Really?” Thrawn heard the temper, in that single word. Could imagine Vanto’s fists clenching at his side, his face heating and his muscles tense. “Last one of the kids that broke something spent a week cleaning out my storage. They’re more careful now.”

“She can’t help it,” Vanto said. “One of Samakro’s crew just-” He broke off, but Thrawn didn’t hear his voice dip, so he must not have continued on.

“Yeah, I get it,” Tehke said. “I’ll let her off with a warning this time,” She said. “You tell her I said to wear her gloves.”

“I’ll remind her, but,” He reminded the woman, “It was a fluke.”

“Or she’s a curious kid who wants to make sure nobody’s out to get you. Again.” Something rattled in the silence, then, “You have a backup or is it urgent?”

“The admiral is taking my communiques for a bit because unlike us, she got a sleep shift recently. My comm is on, should be enough for now.”

“Must be nice,” Tehke commented. “You get out of here. I’ve got to make sure the crews in the hangar think I’m watching them before I take an hour or two.”

“A shift,” Vanto chided. “Six hours if you can.”

“You’re funny if you think the ship isn’t going to fall to pieces without me for a shift,” She said, amusement cracking around a yawn. “I’ll aim for four and see how I feel.”

“That’s all I ask,” He said, with the air of venerable concern, the worry of a commander who recognized the needs of those beneath him. “I appreciate it, Tehke.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Based on the dryness of her tone, Thrawn assumed she had waved him off. There was a pause, and her voice sounded different, like her head might have been angled in a different direction as she bid him farewell. “Goodnight, general.”

Belatedly, Thrawn realized that there must have been two entry points to the room, the one he was standing just short of, and another that must have exited to the larger passageway ahead of him. A convenience to be sure, as it no longer looked as though he had been eavesdropping. 

As he had earlier, Eli Vanto crossed in front of him, from left to right, like text across a page. Except, he wasn’t in a throng of officers demanding his attention, or issuing minute orders to his staff. He was alone, and he was aware.

His steps slowed to a stop, and he turned to Thrawn, giving him a nod. Thrawn’s lips parted, token response-

“Skip the formalities,” His lips twisted and not in a good way, Thrawn was sure. Vanto’s tone was strange, uncomfortable. Did he dislike being referred to by his title? “Get some rest, Thrawn.”

“You do not plan to take your own advice,” He said, in the space between them. That was honest, and it wasn’t what Eli Vanto had all but forbidden him to say. It was not a power grab, not like most officers who would demand their title to be used as a way to establish dominance over a former commanding officer. This was the opposite.

But of course it would be, he reminded himself. Vanto was unlike others. He did not often lord his title over others, only leaning on it if necessary to accomplish things.

“You were the one who told me commanders sleep little.” He smiled, and it was a bit sad, as if remembering a better time. They had always disliked those Coruscanti events, but the networking was necessary. “I have it on authority that Chiss commanders sleep less.”

That was… something, Thrawn thought. An in, of sorts. But was he ready to take it? Was he ready to face this, to look Eli Vanto in the eyes and tell him what damage he had wrought?

“I,” Thrawn inhaled deeply, considering and reconsidering his response.

“I... know what you’re going to say,” Vanto said. His tone was warm, but neutral. It said more than his words alone.

Did he? Thrawn thought, except, he had said the words aloud. His thoughts remained tangled. It was a tactical blunder for him, rare and unusual. 

And yet, Vanto didn’t acknowledge it as such. “I do. There is a cost to war. Things others should never have to live with being pushed to do.”

“Vanto,” Thrawn began, because the human was on the mark and it was both surprising and not, and he did not want to have this conversation here, in an open, echoing hall-

“Eli,” The general pressed. “That’s my name,” He said. “You’re gonna have to get used to it.”

And wasn’t _that_ a thought Thrawn had forced himself out of considering with an absurd amount of effort.

“Is there somewhere we might discuss this?” He asked.

“Yeah,” He said, eyeing Thrawn. It wasn’t the scrutinous gaze of someone who wanted every answer. This was the look of a man who did not want anything from him that he would not give himself. It was honest and open and it said things that Thrawn was not used to seeing reflected in the faces of others. Things he did not think he entirely deserved, but found himself wanting, despite himself. “Do my quarters work for you?”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, wait, I can write romance?
> 
> Huh.
> 
> Aka - this is the one you've all been waiting for. Thanks for being so awesome and taking the time to read. ✨  
> No content warnings here, just serotonin.

There had always been a frenetic sort of energy Eli had attributed to being around Thrawn. To most, it was hardly frenetic at all once you got to know him - most of the man’s moves were poised and calculated - but there were situations when Thrawn did not have all the answers. More of them than people ever really realized, even. Eli had come to recognize that there were certain times when Thrawn enjoyed the mental exercise of figuring things out as he went. 

This was clearly not one of those.

Eli recognized the puzzle he was to the Chiss. It wasn’t just the uniform, though that was quite the irony. Thrawn’s gaze bore into the back of his head as he led the way to his quarters. He was probably calculating lightspeed assessments into his gait, the way his muscles tensed, or the way the back of his neck had begun to throw light and heat into the spectrum that Eli couldn't see. He wondered what it was the Chiss gained from those insights, if he’d tell Eli eventually.

Yes, Eli recognized this puzzle because this was the same one he had spent years trying to figure out. Who was Thrawn? And what was Eli to him? Were they friends or was the space between them too much to ever truly understand? Eli had started with almost nothing and been given the tools, while Thrawn had started with one set and had them ripped from his grasp.

He wasn’t presumptuous enough to assume he knew everything Thrawn was feeling, or to assume that their feelings - their situations - were the same in so many ways. But he was confident in what he had come to understand these last few years, in the time where he hadn’t had a Thrawn, or even a Chiss version of himself to navigate their peoples’ differences. He was confident in this person he had forged himself to be, flaws and all. 

The door to his quarters opened with a quiet swish, and he breathed a mental sigh of relief that Un’hee was not sleeping - or worse, waiting - on the sleep couch just past the kitchenette. He had asked her to make herself scarce on the off chance that Thrawn actually sought him out. Which, technically he didn’t, Eli knew, even if Tehke had caught him lingering on her monitors. He’d be hearing from her. And not just about the questis Un’hee had broken, either. He also figured his quarters would be the better bet - less formal, because he wasn’t trying to be Thrawn’s superior officer, even if he technically _was..._

“Make yourself at home,” Eli said, when Thrawn lingered in the hatchway, blinking into the dimly lit space. Eli had grown used to the lighting, though he tended to need higher brightness on his devices from time to time than his subordinates. “These were Senior Captain Khresh’s quarters,” He admitted, when Thrawn had finally moved. “Ar’alani wanted me close. At first because she was concerned about attempts on my life with,” He winced. Of course Thrawn probably knew now, but still… “Everything,” He summarized messily. “But with the promotion, it made sense to keep it. Not like he’s planning to come back, no matter how many times she reaches out to him.”

That too, was an opening. Thrawn eyed him warily when he turned back to face him but didn’t say anything. That was fine. He didn’t invite Thrawn here to force him into talking. Frankly, he was more tired than he had been in a long time.

Tired, and so kriffing relieved.

He had been the one to hold out hope that they’d ever find Thrawn. Ar’alani was a woman of practicalities. When Eli had come to after the Divide, and the news had hit that not only were they at war but the Empire had, for all intents and purposes, abandoned Thrawn and his troops over a single defeat? Ar’alani had been alone, forced to watch her officers leave in droves. She was frayed, not that she would ever admit it. She still was. But Eli knew that Thrawn was a stubborn bastard and the smartest man he’d ever have the pleasure to know, and he’d bet his life against impossible odds if it was Thrawn up against them. The Chiss was hardly invincible, but if there was a way to come out alive, he’d have found it. And he had, like Eli always knew he would.

“You are staring,” Thrawn said.

Eli blinked back into the present, his face flushing. He was so much more aware of it now, and it didn’t change how often it happened by much. “Er, sorry. It’s just-” He trailed off. How could he say it without it being too much, he wondered.

“What?” Thrawn asked. 

Honesty, then. Thrawn would know if he tried to skirt around his questioning. “I’m just really happy you’re here is all.”

That pensive, inquisitive look shifted. It wasn’t soft - Eli didn’t think that Thrawn could _do_ soft - but it was yielding, almost. People had always assumed Thrawn didn’t have emotions, and at one point that included Eli. He conducted himself flawlessly, after all. It seemed like nothing could touch him.

But Eli had caught glimpses. Brief ones, but glimpses nonetheless. Thrawn was a person with feelings and motivations, just like anybody else.

"I won’t patronize you by asking if you’re alright,” He said, leading the conversation when the silence between them had gone on long enough. “I can’t imagine how you feel right now.”

“I do not believe I could put it into words if I wanted to,” He admitted, and for Thrawn, that was practically signed articles of surrender. Or maybe an acknowledgement, an opening of his own volition. The thought of such a thing made Eli’s head swim. “You appeared well,” Thrawn said, after the moment had passed. Eli let him change the subject, still reeling from the admission. “I saw you earlier,” He added. “Before.”

“Yeah,” Eli replied, the words feeling thick, somehow. “Ar’alani mentioned that.” And oh, had she. An apologetic Vah’nya had been the messenger, issuing a warning that he would be very much on the admiral’s bad side if he broke her borrowed technology. Vah’nya had been smart enough to switch their devices back and transfer the relevant data. Eli might have been in a bit of a hurry when he had changed the meeting. It was a good thing though, considering Un’hee.

He realized he’d let the silence between them go on too long - again, but Thrawn was still watching him with those sharp, dangerous eyes of his. “Did she answer your questions?”

“To a degree.” He clasped his hands behind his back. It would seem like parade rest for most, but for Thrawn it was the one pose he used to look less aggressive when he wanted more information. “I have enough information about recent history for now.”

“For now,” Eli echoed. “I’m sure you’ll have more.”

“Undoubtedly, General.” Thrawn watched him for a reaction, but got none.

“It’s not the title that bothers me you know,” He said, when Thrawn’s lack of commentary or shift in expression relayed his disappointment. “And don’t look at me like that.”

“I am not looking at you like anything,” He said tonelessly. Eli glared at him.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Eli threw himself down into one of the chairs at the small table just outside the kitchenette, unlacing his boots. If Thrawn wasn't fishing for more details, he'd eat the left one. “You and I both know the only reason I’m in this position is because there was nobody else. I’m not saying I deserve it or I don’t, but it’s where I am.”

“It isn’t right.”

“What isn’t right?” Eli growled. Had he misread this spectacularly? If Thrawn was about to give him a dressing down over this-

“What it means, to my people,” Thrawn said into his spiraling thoughts. “In my culture, for a Chiss to reach beyond a certain rank,” He trailed off. Instead of sitting, he stood across from Eli at the place where there was no chair, hand braced on the table between them. His eyes glowed even brighter as he looked down on Eli, intensified by the curtain of Thrawn's hair. It was almost as long as it had been in the beginning. “What must be given up,” He finished.

“Oh," Eli realized, doing his own lightspeed mental gymnastics. Oh, indeed. "It’s nothing I haven’t freely given,” He promised. “I told you I would do this.”

“You said you would go,” Thrawn said. "It is not that I believe you unworthy," He said. "It is just-"

"I'm aware of what I've given up," He interjected sternly, rising from the chair to assert himself. It didn't look like Thrawn was going to sit down any time soon. "And I'm the one who decided it was worth it. Besides, my family never understood why I stayed your aide, you know. So many of your enemies had offered me promotions, good ones, and I-"

"I know," Thrawn said, because at the end, before he had left, Eli had told him. "And yet, I cannot help but feel responsible-"

 _"Oh krayt spit,"_ Eli spat in Basic, brows furrowing as he frowned. He continued in Cheunh, elegant sibilant tones with the burnt edges of Wild Space drawl, temper stoked like hot coals. "You and I know you're the best damn thing to ever happen to me, so you stop that right now."

Whatever Thrawn was expecting, it clearly wasn't that. Not that Eli had a single clue what Thrawn was expecting. Eli had raised his voice at Thrawn before, had growled and snarled and accused, but this was different and they both knew it. 

"Your mission was not a failure."

"My-"

"I wasn't done," Eli said pointedly, and Thrawn shut his mouth. His younger self would have felt proud at catching Thrawn off guard, at surprising him for once. But in this moment, Eli just felt tired. "You were given impossible odds, and were at a ridiculous political disadvantage, and not just for you. You gained insight and influence beyond anything the Syndicure and the Admiralty could have hoped. You did the best you could, considering the circumstances." He paused, and something less stern and more understanding bled back into his voice. "I know that probably sounds cheap coming from me," He said. "Ar'alani should be the one to say this-"

"She did," Thrawn admitted.

"So why don't you believe her?"

Thrawn looked away for a long moment. Ashamed? Uncertain? "Admiral Ar'alani did not ask for the details," He said. "My actions," He began, finishing in a snarl, "They were no better than any other token Imperial."

He chewed on that a moment before he answered. Eli knew what Thrawn had done, had read the reports - Imperial and non-Imperial - from Lothal. "I can't absolve you for what you've done," Eli said, each word measured carefully. His tone, more than anything, told Thrawn precisely how much he was in the know. "You can't change what happened there no more than I can change what's happened here. It's history." He searched Thrawn's eyes intently. "You did what you had to do for your people."

"I did," Thrawn agreed. "But I expected you to be more upset with me." He shifted, his blue black hair still hanging in front of him, head tipped down to look Eli in the eye. They had not been terribly far apart, each leaning over the small table between them.

Thrawn wasn't the only one who carried regrets or felt guilty. "There's a lot I know you haven't been told that you'll need to know." Eli admitted, turning away. He crossed his arms over his chest. It was best to be honest, he told himself. Even if that meant staying up another day and rehashing the last few years.

"I do not doubt that," Thrawn replied. As quickly as it had crested, the moment eased. "But not now."

"No," Eli agreed. "Not now."

"I will take my leave of you then," Thrawn said. He did seem a little less weighed down, but Eli could see the tension that lingered, a stiffening of his upper back and shoulders. He wondered if maybe he wasn't the only one that wasn't ready to part just yet.

They had spent years together. They had spent years together and yet they had never been anything, always been an undefined equation in Eli's life, the variables too foreign and unknown. At least, that's what Eli had let himself believe. And for a while, especially considering their situation? It had been easier to pretend to be deceived.

"You could stay," Eli said, before Thrawn could completely turn toward the door. His eyes burned in the dim light. "If you wanted to." The moment stretched. Eli doubled down, took one step, then another towards him.

Thrawn eyed the accommodations in the messy, office-like area. "The sleep couch-"

"Too short for you," Eli said, knowing it was hardly comfortable for someone of his size, much less Thrawn. "That's not what I meant. You can stay with me. I'm not trying to proposition you either, I just-" Yes, he wondered, what was he saying, exactly? He didn't want to overwhelm the Chiss, sidle him with more emotion he clearly wasn't ready for, but there were some things between them that had always been something, even if Eli hadn't been (or hadn't wanted to be) fully aware of them. They were friends, damn it. But, more than that, beneath the time and distance and nuances to their characters, Eli hoped they understood each other. "I've had a lot of time to come to terms with things," He admitted. "And if you want to be here, I-"

Thrawn's smile was so slight the average person - Chiss or otherwise - would miss it. But Eli was not the average person. He knew Thrawn. "Just to sleep," The Chiss said.

"Yes," Eli agreed, careful to make eye contact. "If you want. Might beat the rack Ar'alani assigned you."

Those red eyes pinned him. "That depends on whether or not you are still a restless sleeper."

Thrawn's teasing had always made itself known in truths delivered so deadpan that it was nearly impossible to tell he was doing it. But he was right - Eli had been a restless sleeper. However, considering how people were always out to get them, and how Thrawn's intervention in his path had taken him so far out of his comfort zone… it was hardly surprising. "I haven't slept more than an hour in the last three standard," He said, doing his best not to yawn just thinking about it. "I'm pretty sure once my head hits the pillow I'll be down for the count, whether I want to be or not."

Thrawn seemed to consider, seriously this time. He didn't confirm it, didn't make the declaration that this - that Eli was what he wanted.

There would be time for that, if Eli's feelings were reciprocated. And if they weren't, Eli could live with that, with being friends with his former mentor. He had always expected love to be more exciting, like an all-consuming desire. This wasn't, and yet it was so much more than that. By the time he'd figured out what he felt (had stopped lying to himself about it), he had been left with a bittersweet feeling, but one he was not willing to trade. Knowing sooner wouldn't have helped him at all, he had realized. Eli would have done what Thrawn asked of him, regardless of his personal feelings.

It had been for the best that he had figured them out on his own, for himself.

Thrawn took a step, then another, until he was finally close enough that he had to look down at Eli. "You are certain," He said, more statement than question.

"I am."

There was a strange, warped familiarity to this. They had lived together, after all. They had shared rooms during their earlier years together, from academy to small cruisers, all of it up until the _Chimaera_. But even then it had only been a door between them. They hadn't been inseparable or anything like that, but it was familiar.

Eli didn't bother with the lights. He knew the majority of his quarters were a mess - research and war-planning had a tendency to eat up time that could be spent tidying - and Thrawn could see well enough in the dark to get the idea. He palmed open the inconspicuous toggle for the bedroom on autopilot and moved to the left side of the bed. His fingers went for the clasp of his sash and belt, then sealing strips of his tunic.

He turned back to the doorway where Thrawn lingered, watching him. "What?" He asked. 

Thrawn searched Eli's face with eyes that seemed even more luminous in the near darkness. The contrast brought out the blue of his skin, the blue-black obsidian of his cascading hair. He said nothing.

Let him look then, Eli thought, shrugging out of the white tunic and relegating it to the laundry chute in the corner. There wasn't much to look at, anyway. Eli was in good shape - the best of his life, even - but he was still small-framed, slighter than the average Chiss.

He caught that glowing gaze out of his periphery, but Thrawn's eyes were narrowed. Not casual study, then. Eli could handle that, too. He toed his socks off and pointedly sent them to be washed as well. "You don't have to stay, or I can take the couch," Eli offered, careful not to turn all the way back to Thrawn. "I won't be offended. I know it's a lot."

That was an understatement, and they both knew it.

Thrawn moved with Eli's back still turned, to the small space between the bed and the wall. He inhaled as if to speak, but stopped before he did. Eli let him have the moment, get undressed in silence, until he too was left in his undergarments. Eli had since slipped into the bed, fingers toggling his wrist comm's chrono to wake him if he wasn't already awake come the ship's designated morning, before he set it on the small table beside him.

With Eli alone, the double bed felt massive. He only ever slept on the one side of it, so used to standard naval accommodations. With the two of them, it was still nearly luxurious, but they were close. Not close enough to feel other's body heat, but near enough to touch without significant effort. 

They laid on their sides, blinking at each other in the dark. "I thought you said you would fall asleep right away," Thrawn said, after a moment of subdued, lingering looks.

"Any minute, I'm sure," Eli said. "You good?"

"Yes," Thrawn answered. "Thank you."

Eli wasn't sure what Thrawn was thanking him for. It could be the obvious - his duty - or it could be the abstract - this, right here, this togetherness - or it could just be everything. He was too tired to overthink it, the weight of his body relaxing telling him sleep was soon coming. He didn't fight it, but he did reach out. 

The Chiss's skin was cool but not cold, and his eyes followed the movement with something Eli's sleep-addled mind catalogued as longing. He slid his heavy hand from a smooth blue forearm down to the back of Thrawn's palm. He was just on the edge of sleep when he felt Thrawn's hand slip out from beneath his. It probably wasn't comfortable, physically or emotionally. Thrawn was not an overly tactile person, not like Eli was, and it had been a challenging day.

It was selfish, really. Eli had just wanted to touch him, to actually feel flesh and blood under his hand, as if to assure himself this was happening. 

And yet, the weight and warmth of a palm covering his now empty, curled fist, was illuminating. As was the thumb stroking the back of his. He smiled a little, too close to sleep to be embarrassed by how much that simple gesture brought him comfort. Thrawn shifted into a more comfortable position, knees drawn up so that they nearly touched Eli's bare shins, and they breathed, deep and slow and even.

Everything else could wait until morning.


	15. Chapter 15

Thrawn woke before Eli, as was to be expected. He was hardly surprised, considering the biological indicators. While Humans and Chiss did not actually have that extreme of a difference between their average need for rest, Eli had cited how long he had been awake. Even a Chiss required at least eight hours at that point, and he knew Eli would be lucky to get six.

He knew he should move, at least freshen up and prepare for the day's activities, but could not bring himself to do it. He lay as he had when he'd fallen asleep, on his side, facing the middle of the bed. He was not touching Eli, and he was more than capable of slipping out of the bed without being disruptive, but-

Things had changed between them.

And not in the ways he had expected, current situation considering. He had expected to feel differently, to want the return to their more reserved, quiet friendship with their roles reversed. It would have been protocol, it would have just made everything _easier_.

He did not understand these feelings in a way that was to be preferred. Abstractly, he knew what attraction was, but was utterly bewildered by the desire to touch the man in front of him. He understood devotion, but he was shaken by the gravity of what little he would not do for the man who laid beside him. He understood trust, and how it had spanned the distance between them. 

But he understood order, too. Law, rules, commands. And he could not forget what he had been taught, just as he could not continue forward without acknowledging what he had learned.

Ar'alani had briefly touched on the repercussions of having a human involved in matters so important to Chiss politics, even in a positive light (as it should have been). Thrawn had been respectful of the Admiral's reticence, her obvious discomfort. He knew to be patient. She was good at removing her personal feelings from a situation, presenting the facts. That she was still so obviously struggling with this was a testament to how horrific the situation had become.

Eli had hardly been tight-lipped about the violence directed against him. How much of this had Eli been prepared for, watching him attempt to acclimate to the Empire’s social hierarchy? Had he known when he’d agreed to go? He had said he chose, and Thrawn had done everything in his power when he’d presented the choice to stress its importance while allowing Eli the freedom to decline. 

“It’s too early to be thinking that hard,” Eli’s sleep-thick voice cut into his thoughts. 

“On the contrary,” Thrawn replied, careful to keep his voice just loud enough to be heard, “It is never too early.”

The human hummed, inching closer, cracking one eye open almost lazily. “Care to share?”

“Matters we will surely discuss at a later time,” Thrawn relented. “Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Eli groaned. “If I roll over I know my comm will be blinking.”

“Are you on call?”

“Always," He said. Then, "But mostly if it’s Ar’alani. Or urgent.”

Thrawn hummed. “And I suspect such an alert would be accompanied by a tone of some sort.”

“They would,” He muttered back.

“Then you have no reason not to return to sleep,” The Chiss chided. “I suspect you’ll have at least another hour.”

The quiet acknowledgement was less spoken word and more intelligible. It took Eli several moments to answer. “Did you?” He asked, adding, “Sleep?”

“I did,” Thrawn assured him. “But I was clearly not as tired. I have been sleeping regularly.”

“Not well,” Eli pointed out.

“Better,” Thrawn allowed, sidestepping the majority of Eli's implication.

That seemed to solidify something for Eli who shifted, moving close enough that Thrawn could feel the draw of his body like a tidal force pulling him in. “Do you-”

“Not at all,” Thrawn said, internally evaluating the strange rightness and heightened awareness of their close proximity. It was natural for Thrawn’s arm to come around him, to drape across his back, feeling the heat of his body and slackness of relaxed musculature. He had not slacked in his training, Thrawn could tell. But it was Eli’s hand, smaller than his own, splayed over his hip, that felt like a brand even through his undershirt.

Eli’s breath did not return to its sleep-evened rhythm though, and his dark eyes eventually blinked open. He propped himself up on one elbow, the fingers curled around Thrawn’s side twitching. “Thrawn,” He said, voice gone low, sounding punched out of him and breathy. Thrawn’s hand drifted up higher, to the place between Eli’s shoulder blades, pulling the human in more effectively. 

Thrawn wasn’t a fool. He knew what Eli wanted. He knew what he wanted, too.

And he knew that Eli wouldn’t kiss him unless he kissed Eli first.

Eli yielded to Thrawn as Thrawn had expected, letting him lead in the beginning. But when he’d read Thrawn’s tactics, he met them in their intensity. And then, there were his startlingly effective countermeasures. He licked into Thrawn’s mouth, slid his hands up from hip to chest and fisted Thrawn’s shirt in his hands. He wanted close quarters and Thrawn would give him that. A moment later, the other groaned out of the increasingly frantic kiss, back arching in the satisfying blur of stimulation - pleasure and pain, both - when Thrawn’s left hand came up to tangle in his hair.

Thrawn cataloged the moment with keen eyes, noticed the way he shuddered and his chest heaved. Eli had liked that, was sensitive to that specific touch, it seemed. It didn’t last long, though. He rolled Eli onto his back, straddling his thighs, caging him with forearms on either side of his head, blue black hair falling down either side of his face. They kissed again, longer and less urgently, until Thrawn pulled away and Eli blinked up at him, dark eyes hazy with desire, yet still warm and understanding.

There had been others in Thrawn’s life, though very few and far in-between. None of them were like this. This was not experimentation as much as it was discovery, and the strength of his want continued to surprise him. The glow of Thrawn’s eyes illuminated Eli’s face, though he closed them when Eli’s hand found his cheek, the gentleness of the motion a sharp contrast he had rarely encountered in such activities. And yet, this was Eli. It was hardly unwelcome.

He appreciated the differences.

And it was different. “We shouldn’t rush,” Eli said, and there was no mistaking his barely controlled desire. “As much as I want to.”

Yes, Thrawn could tell. The signs of human arousal were noticeable in the infrared. He could see the deep flush that disappeared beneath Eli’s shirt, and feel that heat from their closeness. If they were closer in other areas, there would be even more obvious signs. Thrawn could admit that once he had started, once Eli met him for bruising kisses and arched into his touch he was not feeling particularly inclined to patience. But Thrawn had no expectations, and the desires of the flesh and those of the mind had a tendency to be different.

“I did not mean to presume,” He said, opening his eyes. It did indeed look that way, and it had been Eli who confirmed this invitation was merely for sleep, “I was…”

“Yeah,” Eli agreed, thumb stroking Thrawn’s cheek once before releasing his face, “I thought it might be like that.” His hand slid down, catching on Thrawn's shirt, pressing against his chest again. 

That was a more human action, but Thrawn understood the significance. The chemical processes, the reactions, all thought originated neurologically, but the heart was the organ that indicated vitality, and that translated to the ability to give and receive affection in many cultures.

"I want to do this right," Eli said, and Thrawn carefully rolled off him, back to the side of the bed he'd slept on. "You should make an informed decision before we," He flushed, "Well, get involved."

"I believe we are past mere involvement," Thrawn replied. "But if that is what you wish."

"It's what's right," Eli told him. If he didn't believe Thrawn would counter it - and Thrawn would have, he knew himself - Eli might have told Thrawn it was what he deserved.

The silence that settled over them was far from that strange, human awkwardness. Nor eas it heavy with thwarted lust. It merely was. Or, it was until Eli reached his hand out between them. Thrawn took it, thumb stroking the soft skin on the back of his hand. They both stared up at the bulkhead. 

"I look forward to seeing you in command," Thrawn murmured into the darkness.

"You would," Eli said dryly and chuckled, flipping his palm and squeezing Thrawn's hand before he let go. "I hope I do you justice."

Thrawn scoffed, as if such a thing were not possible.

They pulled away from each other, the space between them familiar and comfortable, though changed. "Things have definitely gone sideways here," He said. "And Ar'alani will tell you this, too, but-"

"What is it?" Thrawn asked, concerned.

"The difference in our ranks," Eli said. "It's hardly proper that she gave you your old rank, versus a flag rank," He said, gesturing to himself. "We all know you'd give up your family name in an instant, and I'm sure you're not feeling particularly fond of yours, consid-"

"Yes," He cut in, "She has explained what was done." 

"I'm sure you talked," He sighed and rolled onto his side, considering Thrawn. "She barely scratched the surface, I bet. It hurts her."

"And you?"

Eli's voice was durasteel. "It's not about me."

"It was your research that acted as a catalyst."

Eli recognized Thrawn's invitation. "I identified key indicators from the data Ar'alani gave me," He said. "You could give me data on a child in the Ascendancy, and I could tell you if they had the predisposition to be a navigator."

Thrawn nodded. "You will have to explain it to me in more detail when time allows."

Eli folded his hands on his chest, sighing. "And then, I took it one step further." It rang like an admission. Like he did something wrong, like he was guilty.

At that, Thrawn sat up, looking down at him. "What did you do?" He asked, not accusing but sternly curious, reprising his role as the superior officer in that moment.

Eli did not speak as if detached, like Ar'alani did. "I figured out the indicators, like I said," He began, and Thrawn could tell he was passionate about his project. "And then I figured out an algorithm to predict future Sky-walkers, based on biological data. Ar'alani didn't want to share it," He paused, looking straight ahead, at the closed door to the rest of his suite, instead of at Thrawn, "But she had to report it to the Admiralty. All it takes is some aide or secretary gossiping and suddenly everyone knows." 

"And that was why they requested your presence on Csilla."

"It was," Eli said. "Ar'alani and I had a bad feeling going into it. She said she'd told you, last time we saw you-"

"She felt that war was imminent."

"All it needed was a spark," Eli agreed. "At the last minute, she asked me to separate the data and the algorithm." He smiled bitterly. "A good thing, too. If she hadn't, they'd have all the pieces to continue this war indefinitely, snatching up babies for some sick and twisted sense of power."

"This algorithm can predict from birth?"

"Pre-birth. The indicators shift, and there's some generational data that correlates. Still a slight margin of error, but it works. It's tested. It had been a prototype when we were going to present it, but there hadn't been enough time to confirm, obviously." Eli shrugged. "I know Ar'alani told you about the bombing."

"Yes," Thrawn said, reeling. He had known - had tested, extensively - the wealth of Eli's knowledge. Ar'alani had told him that Eli had been successful, but she did not mention this additional step or its potential.

Eli pulled a knee to his chest. "She saved my life. By the time I woke up and was of any use to anyone you were in the wind and the Syndicure had decided that I was the terrorist responsible for the bombing - that I had withheld the algorithm on purpose."

Thrawn studied him, not urging him to continue, Eli would go on at his pace.

"The other things they did were more sinister. Laws stating that all sky-walkers would be absorbed into the ruling families for merit adoption upon the realization of their abilities were approved, supposedly to protect them from any possibilities of anyone who followed me," He said it sarcastically, as if any Chiss had ever entertained such a thing, "Or who might resurface with my data and begin taking Navigators." He tilted his head to look into Thrawn's eyes, his own expression stern, aggravated. "And then the recall happened."

"Ar'alani mentioned it."

"I bet she did." He said angrily and shook his head. "You'll realize there's a lot of folks like Tehke here. People you wouldn't necessarily want involved with your military."

Thrawn shrugged. "A warrior is a warrior, regardless of upbringing."

"Yeah, well, training helps. I don't particularly like sending good people to their deaths." He changed tracks when his comm began chiming. It must have been his morning alarm, because he silenced it without looking. "Anyway," He backtracked, "There were obviously more people here who understood what was actually happening, but," He frowned. "The families issued a mandate. There were so many sides at first that it was easy to sneak in and get the Sky-walkers evacuated. But more and more people felt the pull. I get it. Chiss politics and status is tied to your family."

"But it felt like a setup."

"Yeah, because it was. You know the Syndicure underestimates the threats against them. This just goes to show how arrogant and stupid they really are."

"Indeed. While certainly harrowing, how does all this relate to my rank?"

The smile Eli gave him was wistful, sad. "Did she tell you who orchestrated the attack on the Syndicure?"

"She said it was the Mitth family," He recalled, though it took no effort, an echo of the previous day's shock lingering even still.

"Thurfian, Thrawn." He turned, kneeling beside the Chiss. "It was Thurfian," He said, with an awareness that chilled Thrawn to the bone. Eli would see the patterns far easier. He had always been defensive of Thrawn, even when they had more differences than understandings. "Things… They got bloody after the Divide. I'm sure you can imagine how he managed to make himself the Mitth family's Patriarch."

Thrawn's voice was dangerously quiet as he asked, "Your evidence?"

"Officially, nothing. He's good at the game." Eli looked at Thrawn. His eyes flashed with deadly intent, and Thrawn understood the implication. This was not merely a selfish man attempting to claim power. This, Thrawn realized, was personal. "He underestimated me. Thought you sent me to the Ascendancy to act as your replacement."

That was a logical conclusion to draw, though incorrect it was. He had trained Eli, after all. Eli and Thrawn had their areas of expertise, their own unique ways of thinking. Their own things that no other could accomplish. But Eli had the political insight and understanding that Thrawn had never been able to perceive.

"His mistake," Thrawn said, lips twisting into a matching, predatory snarl. 

"Yes," Eli agreed.

\----------

Ezra frowned at the empty suite, the crisp, still made beds on the other side of the room, how nothing had been moved or organized while he was unconscious. It was as he sat up that he saw Faro, already dressed in the smart black uniforms they'd been issued, going over something on her questis.

"Where's Thrawn?" He asked, the question coming out like a whine as he yawned.

The older woman shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear distractedly. "Your guess is as good as mine. He might have gotten up early to see the admiral."

"Doubtful," Ezra said, rolling out of bed into a stretch. "I can see his questis from here. He wouldn't go to see anybody without it."

"Right," Faro said blankly. "I didn't hear him leave."

"He would've woke me up if he came in."

"You do know he is capable of taking care of himself, right?" Faro reminded him.

Ezra shrugged - "Mmm, debatable," He hedged - and padded delicately around behind her to use their shared fresher, with Faro's withering glare trained on him all the while. "Right," He said mildly. "Which is why you're definitely not worried."

She bit back a growl when he cut off her rebuttal with the closing of the fresher door. He just barely kept himself from laughing at her frustration. He hadn't entirely pissed her off yet - at least, not without backup - but he didn't want to find out if Thrawn was exaggerating when he said her temper was legendary.

By the time he'd gotten himself together, fumbling through the belt - but thankfully unrestricted by the sash he'd seen officers wearing - Faro was eyeing the chrono portion of her comm with a little bit of impatience. "We need to go," She said. "Admiral is waiting."

She looked… not uncomfortable, really, but a bit subdued.

"What's wrong?" He found himself asking, grabbing his own device from his bunk, strapping on the wrist comm he'd probably never use.

"Admiral Ar'alani has been trying to reach Thrawn," She said. "I mean, he's on the ship somewhere, there's nowhere he could go," She added, then paused, considering some possibility. Her face shifted, expression changing from something like concern to surprise before settling into an almost smug blankness. There almost seemed to be a lingering sort of disbelief, too. Ezra couldn’t be certain.

"What?" He asked, on the off chance she would share.

Faro shook her head, sounding almost distracted. "It's nothing."

"Right," Ezra muttered, watching as she collected Thrawn's device. She tucked it beneath her own, and together they filed out into the passageway.


	16. Chapter 16

Ezra had the strangest feeling. It wasn't a bad feeling or anything, just the Force, reaching out, telling him to pay attention. Faro led him to Admiral Ar'alani while he considered the advice. What was he looking for? Chiss felt smooth and strange in the Force. As if there were a veil between them. Kanan had told him that some beings were simply like that. 

He had long since learned for himself that Chiss made that list. 

Admiral Ar'alani had merely exchanged a glance with Faro, both women raising their eyebrows at each other in silent questioning. Clearly she hadn't located Thrawn either, but to his surprise, neither woman seemed very worried about it.

"Shouldn't he answer you?" Ezra couldn't help but ask, following behind the two women.

"He is notoriously bad about checking his messages," Ar'alani intoned slowly to allow him time to process her words and translate them somewhat in his head. "Surely you have spent enough time with him to know this."

"Well, yeah," He groused in Basic, then flushed and said in heavily accentuated Cheunh, "I just thought it was me."

"No," Ar'alani said, something like amusement possibly crossing those usually stoic, unreadable Chiss features. It disappeared as soon as Ezra realized the change. "That is how he is."

The rest of the trek to the officers' dining hall was spent in silence. That was good, though, because Ezra doubted he would have been able to pay attention. That tiny nudge that had been the Force felt like it was coiling tightly in his belly. He reached out, feeling what seemed like a roiling sea. It was chaotic and loud and bright, Ezra realized. 

"Ezra?" Ar'alani addressed him. He'd frozen in the doorway to the mess hall, both women turning back to see what had made him stop.

He had no eyes or ears for the two women though. There were children here. More of them than officers sat at the tables. They were mostly female, Ezra thought, though there were boys among them. His breath caught and he watched them move and talk, none of them ever really turning to them.

It was a good thing, he thought, swallowing hard. He didn't know what to say. There simply weren’t any words.

Kanan only spoke rarely of Coruscant and the Jedi temple. Typically it had been in passing, a reference to a lesson he taught Ezra. Ezra's master hadn't liked talking about it. It brought him pain. But he had mentioned how it felt to be among so many Force sensitives: the way they felt, the vibrance and harmony and peace of knowing he hadn't been alone in the galaxy. Kanan had never said it out loud, exactly, but Ezra knew he had wanted the same things for him. With the Empire's influence, that just wasn't within reach.

And yet, here he was, in a room full of Force sensitive Chiss children.

Ezra's mind struggled to process the reality. The Chiss might feel different, and their Force presences were muted, different than what he'd sensed in Ahsoka and Kanan, or even Master Kenobi, but it was there. It was like a beacon. It felt welcoming. No wonder Kanan and Ahsoka missed the Jedi Temple. This was incredible.

Ar'alani's hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts, making him flinch. Her eyes hadn't narrowed, nor was her face twisted in what was about to be a rebuke when he finally looked up at her. Instead, she looked concerned. Openly so.

"I did not realize you... would have such a strong reaction," She said, in Basic this time. It was very heavily accented, and it had drawn Faro's surprised attention, but she'd spoken in the language nonetheless.

He mentally translated his reply into simple Cheunh, wetting his lips before he did, concentrating on being in the moment. It was difficult to separate himself from all the possibilities, but the Force still whispered at him to remain calm, to focus. This was only one part of a larger… something, Ezra realized with a startling clarity.

"I've never been around this many Force sensitives before."

"They are not Jedi," She said, her inflection odd on the last word. "I trust Mitth’raw’nuruodo has explained Navigators to you, yes?" She questioned.

“I,” He hesitated. “Yes, he did, but-”

Ar'alani nodded. "If it is too much-"

"No," He interrupted her, desperate not to leave. When he realized he had interrupted her, he winced, expecting the bracing reply she'd given Thrawn when he had done the same thing the previous day. 

Her hand rested on the center of his back, and she nodded down to him. Her expression was far less reserved than it had been. It was as if she understood. Maybe, in her own way, she did. "Then let us proceed," She said, guiding him through the hall to a table designated in the corner.

Where they had been in the dining hall the previous day when it was empty, today, it was full of life. Children carrying on in peals of laughter and animated discussions, and the officers for whom the refectory had been designated for originally filled in the empty gaps. 

"There are far more officers than children, but most officers do not have time to sit and eat," She spoke into Ezra's thoughts, keeping her words plain and simple. "And certainly not this late into the shift."

"Admiral," Faro murmured, when the other woman had finished.

She raised her eyes from Ezra's face at that. Faro had sat beside him, but she'd been watching the entry to the far left side of the room, the one from which they'd entered. She flicked her gaze toward the double hydraulic doors and Ezra followed it just in time to see them close behind Thrawn and the white uniformed human from yesterday. Eli.

"Good luck to our enemies," Faro whistled quietly.

"Warrior's fortune, you mean," Ar'alani corrected, her face returning to its stoic baseline. "Not even luck will save them."

The two men walked side by side. Eli’s height put him about eye-level with Thrawn’s chin, and they conversed as they approached the group. Thrawn was as reserved as ever, but Eli Vanto was everything Chiss, and even most Imperials, weren’t. He was animated, his emotions played across his face. Intent interest and maybe a hint of sarcasm as he replied to something Thrawn had said. Fondness as one of the young girls at a table they passed greeted him with a happy shout. Exasperated amusement as he stopped in his tracks to prevent what definitely looked like one of the young girls attempting to volley some kind of warm cereal at a nearby tablemate with merely a pat on the head and a cool, knowing smirk.

Ezra noticed the way the chaotic vibrance of so many Force sensitive children shifted under that single influence. Eli was important to them. Very important. There was something about him. Maybe it was his openness, or the innate kindness Ezra had dreamed about. He hadn’t had any dreams in several days, not since making contact with Ar’alani. He had a feeling it was just lingering anxiety, the Force helping him to understand what was coming. He’d have his guard up, just in case. 

“Good morning,” Eli bid them, and was immediately met with a questioning - but slightly proud - expression from Faro.

“White looks good on you, General,” She said with a smirk.

“Glad to see you never change,” He shot back, eyeing the seat beside Admiral Ar’alani. Their uniforms were a sharp contrast to the rest of those present. The Navigators mostly wore uniforms of a deep royal navy blue, while the warriors and officers wore a black graphite color that reminded Ezra of deep space

“Ezra Bridger?”

Eli smiled at Ezra. Everything about him, from his comfortable posture and relaxed emotions spoke volumes. With the older man’s gaze trained on him, his attention keenly focused on their first real interaction, Ezra was able to get quite a read on him. He was steady and resilient, bending but not breaking. His humanity was something he cherished and was likewise cherished, especially by all the bright lights in the Force around them. And under all of that, Ezra felt the fire that was a hidden temper, a fierce protectiveness. This man was a defender.

“That’s me,” He said smiling a little back and the two of them shook hands before Eli sat with a wordless greeting to Ar’alani.

Thrawn took a seat directly across from the admiral, having inclined his head in greeting to them but said little else. Ar’alani’s eyes followed him the entire way until he finally rested directly in front of her, their first meals between them and Faro between himself and Thrawn. 

She raised a singular eyebrow at him, but Thrawn busied himself with his meal, neither averting his gaze nor meeting hers head on. Ezra watched the woman narrow her eyes, then swing her bright gaze toward Eli.

“General,” She addressed Eli. “I trust you are well rested?”

“I am,” He answered unflinchingly, and unlike Thrawn he met her gaze without hesitation and held it. Ezra caught the motion as Faro leaned forward with interest. “Why do you ask?”

“It is good practice to be worried about your officers,” Ar’alani said blandly, sipping her tea.

“I’m sure,” He said back, with just a hint of mirth, the beginnings of an aborted laugh.

What were they talking about? Ezra wondered. There was definitely a conversation happening here he didn’t quite understand. Faro was hiding subtle laughter with one hand, and adjusting the napkin on her lap with the other, before her hand moved to her left side. 

Thrawn barely inclined his head in her direction before looking down, blinking, and returning to his meal with a nod. Faro then returned her gaze to Eli, smug again, but he met her with some borrowed Chiss-stoicism of his own. Put on, of course.

Ezra was about to say something, because there was no way they were suggesting that Thrawn had spent the night with Eli. Sure, Thrawn cared about the guy, but he wasn’t a ‘touchy-feely’ type himself. Hell, he’d seen Thrawn delusional, thinking that _he_ was Eli (which, no resemblance, what the hell?), and the guy had never made any kind of indication that there might be feelings. So he straightened up, opened his mouth and was about to speak the first words that came to mind.

And then, before he could finish forming the first sibilant tone of his question, he abruptly stopped, shuddering. It felt like a cool breeze had ghosted across the back of his neck, like a touch to his shoulder or a whisper in his ear. And that was the Force, back and more insistent than Ezra had ever felt it.

“Are you alright?” Eli and Thrawn asked in varying accents yet somehow still in perfect sync They had both noticed the subtle shudder. Ar’alani’s eyes had refocused on him, observing carefully while Faro looked around them, as if expecting danger.

“Sorry,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a weird feeling.”

“Weird how?” Thrawn asked him curiously.

“It’s nothing,” He said, looking down at his meal. His stomach felt unsettled. Not uncomfortable, but everything about the moment felt charged, jittery. It felt like he was being watched, almost. Not in a bad way, just someone observing him.

He scanned the room as subtly as he dared - it probably wasn’t very, considering those he was with. Most of them had been in the military longer than he’d been alive. He didn’t see anyone looking at him, and resumed eating, trying to be mindful. To live in the moment. He reached out to the Force, as much as he dared without losing awareness of what was happening around him. 

It was loud in the Force with so many Navigators around, but a moment or two of focus pointed him in the right direction. He was in luck. Whomever was looking at him, whoever the Force was trying to point him to was almost directly in front of him. 

Casually, he leaned his head on his hand, attempting to look around Eli while being as inconspicuous as possible. There was a hallway that led to the kitchen area in the back of the mess. In that hallway, peering from around the corner where it wound into the meal-prep area, was a tiny Chiss girl.

She seemed to be looking for something, her gaze slipping over the group before settling on Ezra. Then, realizing he was looking at her, she twitched and shrank back, slipping out of sight.

\----------

Too many days had been spent in this room planning fruitless endeavors. was not one of those days. As he always did, Eli waited for the remainder of the staff to clear out from the briefing, dark eyes watching his people carefully. Many of them hid injuries or ailments to stay on the horribly lacking active roster. He understood their intentions, but it was his job to make sure they were all ready for whatever challenges they faced, and they could not be adequately prepared if they were not in top health.

He’d flown too many burnt out pilots and sent operatives with lingering injuries on missions when he’d had no choice. Now, there were more warriors. He wouldn’t say there were enough, because they could use their entire military back and they’d probably still be at a disadvantage against their greater enemies.

Thrawn hadn’t had a single thing to say during the session, looming quietly behind Eli, listening and observing, no doubt making assessments he would want later. He had no doubt there were insights he could gain. Thrawn had a keen eye for skills and talents that Eli often missed. 

Ar’alani had led Thrawn from the room the moment the briefing was over, and that was just fine. Eli was hardly going to complain about that. If anything, Thrawn needed to be debriefed as much as possible, and given something more along the lines of normalcy to look forward to. To be honest, the _Steadfast_ needed more leadership, and Ar’alani needed a true first officer to care for the vessel and its crew. Thrawn’s aptitude for teaching would be incredibly helpful. 

He tapped at his questis, scrolling through the briefing notes that Vah’nya had taken and sent over to him in record time. She’d been getting better at multitasking lately and settling into her role as Ar’alani’s personal aide with a lot more poise than she’d started out with.

“Eli?”

The general looked up from his questis, eyes flicking to the doorway to the large conference room. With the exception of himself and the large three dimensional map in the center of the room that outlined the Ascendancy, the room was empty. A Sky-walker, arms behind her back, probably wringing her hands, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

“Ah,” He said, recognizing the girl. “Hello, Ren’yra. What can I do for you?”

Only after he’d waved her to come in did she enter the room, stepping around the map to linger before him. She was nervous, it was obvious in her stance, but she schooled her features in something that rested between faux confidence and cool control. She was brave, he would give her that.

"I wish to be a Navigator," She said. "For the fleet."

And there it was. Both he and Ar'alani had expected it. "Have you ever guided a ship before?" He asked.

"Some. Mostly transports," She admitted, then added indignantly, "But there are more every day, and Un'hee said you would take me if I volunteered."

Yes, he had said that. It was actually their policy, as of the beginning of their official stance against what was being done to the Sky-walkers of the Greater Ascendancy. He also knew Un'hee spoke to some of the Navigators, especially the new ones, right up until they had found where they belonged.

"What you've been told is correct. Why did you come to me instead of the admiral?"

"Un'hee suggested-" She trailed off, and Eli adopted a look that suggested he believed her. He didn't. Something about her tone was too uncertain. "I want to make sure I am working with someone I can trust. I don't need a momish, I can take care of myself," Eli considered that she shouldn't have to, but the truth was that they had too many young Sky-walkers who needed near-constant supervision, "I just-"

"There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel safe, Ren'yra. Not at any age, or in any role." He drummed his fingers against the armrests of his chair, considering. Then, mind made up, he rose. "I think I know an officer you might appreciate."


	17. Chapter 17

“Is there a Navigator aboard this ship named Un’hee?” Ezra asked the admiral, the two of them walking nearly side by side in front of Thrawn and Faro.

Bridger had questions, Thrawn knew. A great many of them. This was only the beginning.

He had kept quiet over their shared meal, eyes flicking around the room as if he expected to be plucked from his place within it at any instant. Thrawn had anticipated him to be surprised by the Navigators, though it was not their presence, or the nuance of that presence that had caught the Jedi most off guard.

Their sheer numbers had been the most devastating piece of information to the young man. Thrawn was not surprised. The number of Navigators themselves were extraordinarily high, but this was the safest place for them. At the least, it was far safer than other options like an immobile base. And it meant they had the widest array of resources at their disposal to keep them safe.

Those blue eyes - bright with a combination of interest and their usual defiance - chanced a glance at the woman beside him. In some ways, Thrawn could admire the boy’s tenacity and gumption. 

Ar’alani’s pensive look gave way to something neutral. She had always been good with the Navigators - she was a natural defender, after all. “Why do you ask?” She asked, instead of answering.

“I’ve been having these dreams,” Ezra began slowly. “Thrawn thinks they might have been about her.”

“He does,” She said, and only then did she turn her head slightly, a single bright eye narrowing on him with great intensity. “And why does he think that?”

Thrawn said, “The events-”

“I was not speaking to you,” Ar’alani said, holding up a single hand in a sharp gesture meant to evoke silence. She regarded Ezra once more. “Continue,” She said.

With only a meager command of the Cheunh language, the Jedi described several of his more detailed dreams and gave a very brief summary of several of his and Ezra’s discussions of those instances. Thrawn could not be certain it was the language barrier so much as the young man’s reluctance to show any perceived weakness that prevented him from expanding further, but Ar’alani did not press him for more than what he was willing to give. 

The _Steadfast’s_ main passageway was hardly the most appropriate place for such a conversation, but, as she tended to be with Sky-walkers, the admiral indulged him. “There is a young girl named Un’hee aboard this vessel,” She began, her voice patient. “You may very well have peered into her memories with your Jedi-sight,” she said. 

“But?” Bridger’s face fell at the expression he saw cross her face, one that was hidden from Thrawn’s sight by the column of her dark hair. 

“You are aware of the differences between Sky-walkers and your Jedi?” Ezra nodded. Ar’alani dipped her head in acknowledgement, her voice grave. “Un’hee’s Sight had began to fade not long after she was rescued from captivity. She remains a Sky-walker only in name.”

\----------

Captain Ufsa’mak’ro was a busy man. Not only was unofficially managing the bulk of the forces that had absconded from his family’s influence, he was also being tasked with overseeing the bridge, being on the rotation of captains maintaining the admiral’s flagship as a sort of try-out for his former role. 

Things had begun shakily. He knew trust needed to be earned, and that while he had made a poor choice to start, he had come to the realization that the family was not acting appropriately. It was loyalty that had made him leave, to take his ship and return home. And it had been that same loyalty - not just to his family but to the Chiss people, as a whole - that had corrected his course. 

Still, it had been very long. At least the admiral had trusted him enough to task him with such a test. He knew she had spies, people who would report back to her if he so much as looked at the line much less inched toward it. They were still so desperate and Samakro hated it. He hated what they had reduced themselves to with a passion. 

Samakro understood family politics - it was why he, a merit adoptive, would never be more than a commander - and he was well versed in military protocol. But the more he’d learned and the more answers he sought out, the less he could understand the motivations. Everything became skewed: twisted by greed and selfishness. The families’ thirst for power was a slow-acting but deadly poison.

He left the bridge in Velbb’s hands and tried hard not to think about how the commander was one of the few remaining pillars of the admiral’s bridge crew before the Divide. 

The halls were louder than normal, the non-military warriors and officers always speaking louder than was necessary. It must drive the admiral crazy, he thought, not terribly thrilled with the proceedings himself. He reminded himself again that they were desperate, and that they would be foolish to refuse help, obnoxious or not.

And, speaking of help - specifically the obnoxious kind - there was more of it to be had, if the whisperings of the crew were to be believed. The warriors talked, the officer core even more so, and really, he should have known. He should also, he thought, be more grateful. Just because Thrawn had always been a royal pain in his ass, didn't mean he was any less than a brilliant commander.

Regardless, Samakro wasn’t looking forward to seeing the other man anytime soon. Who knew what his time seemingly exiled to the lesser regions of the galaxy had done to him.

It was only natural that he had just finished the thought that Thrawn turned the corner, heading directly toward him. Great, he thought. That was just his luck. 

But Thrawn was not looking at him. In fact, the other man hardly looked like he remembered - his hair was longer and his face was beginning to show signs of age. When he noticed Samakro, he paused, inclining his head politely enough, without the airs of leadership. He had a strange suspicion someone or something had definitely knocked him down a few pegs. 

Once, he might have felt a private twinge of glee, but here and now Thrawn was not the only one who had done things he was not proud of.

“Captain,” A voice called out, warm but firm. Samakro swiveled left as Thrawn did to his right and both reflexively straightened to attention in answer to their general.

“General Eli,” Thrawn said first, as was protocol, as the senior commander.

“General,” Acknowledged Samakro.

Compared to Thrawn, General Eli was small in every conceivable way. Samakro could easily picture their roles reversed as the officers so ardently gossipped: Thrawn striding confidently down the command walk, giving orders on the bridge, and the short, open-faced human at his side, ready to answer his every obscure and unorthodox whim.

By looks, at least. And only at a glance. The officers who fed the rumor mill clearly didn’t work much with him. Eli was human. He did not hide his emotions, and even if he could, his flesh was paper-thin and gave him away. But those emotions were not the crippling weakness he and so many of his officers had anticipated. Maybe that was why Thrawn had singled him out. It really didn’t matter to Samakro. He could admit he liked Eli. The man didn’t pull any punches. He worked as hard as his crew and was someone many of the officers - including himself - respected, scuttlebutt be damned.

The youngest of the three of them looked down at the child standing beside them. He still hadn’t told them which of the two of them he’d been referring to. The child looked between them both with a glance that felt like it could see through the bulkheads.

“Commander Thrawn, Captain Samakro” The general indicated each of them in turn, “This is Ren’yra.”

“A pleasure,” Thrawn said, in that cool, silky tone of his that hadn’t changed in all the years since Samakro had seen him last.

“Indeed,” Samakro echoed.

The girl nodded demurely to them in acknowledgement, and Samakro saw nerves and resolve, twisted into one. It wasn’t the chaos he saw in most, a tangle of chaotic energy that needed taming. Eli directed their gaze out the viewport. “Ren’yra wishes to become a Navigator,” He informed them. “But she wishes to find an officer that she trusts to work with.

“A wise decision,” Came the agreement from Samakro’s right. 

Obviously, he thought dully. Considering their current political climate, the things the Navigators had been facing, the revisions to their current Navigators in service… He realized the girl was looking at him and sighed. “I’m sure whomever you choose would be honored to have you aboard,” He said. 

“Have you anyone in mind?” Thrawn asked her, politely enough.

She wrinkled her nose. “Eli-” She stopped herself, then straightened to something a bit more sure. “I mean, General Eli said there is an officer he believes I would work well with.” Samakro barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He should have dismissed himself. Of course Eli was referring her to Thrawn.

He seemed to know it, too. “And your experience?”

Ren’yra frowned again, looking up to Eli, asking if she had to answer with the frustrated widening of her eyes. The general’s face spoke to his amusement, as he did the talking on her behalf. “She has a great deal of experience with smaller vessels,” He said. “But I’m thinking she might be better suited to something larger.”

The girl twitched but composed herself. Obviously that hadn’t been the answer she was expecting. “Like what?” She asked him, peering out the narrow viewport that lined the passageway. The rest of the fleet was clustered in the shadows of barely moving asteroids a number of kilometers away.

“That one,” The general said, pointing to the next closest vessel. 

“The _Springhawk_?” She considered it, surprised. After the _Steadfast,_ it was the largest ship in the fleet. “That was the Ufsa family’s flagship,” She said softly. 

“It was,” Thrawn said, voice soft with understanding. “But no longer.”

“Yes, because I stole it from them,” Samakro hissed, realizing the way this conversation was going, that his ship for more than the last decade was truly about to be taken from him because Thrawn had somehow managed to come back from yet another impossible ordeal.

The girl’s sharp eyes swung to Samakro, though. “You did?”

Samakro refrained from cursing under his breath. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It was the truth, though. “With help,” He said, inclining his head to Eli, who smiled a little and nodded back. “Who did they take you back from?”

“The warriors took me from a Dasklo academy,” She said slowly. “Before that I was Ufsa. Before that, Irizi.”

Thrawn’s eyes glittered sharply, but he remained silent. This was probably news to him, Samakro guessed. Who knew how much he’d been apprised of things. As far as Samakro had heard, the no-longer-exiled Chiss had barely been aboard for a day. It was surprising that he was without an escort, to be honest. 

And yet, Samakro couldn’t bother himself with Thrawn's knowledge or lack thereof. He couldn’t apologize for the Ascendancy or even for his own misguided family. "I was in command of Ufsa's forces after leaving the CDF," He said. Why he was saying this was beyond him. It felt like giving a rival ammunition with the way Thrawn was assessing him with that infuriatingly blank stare.

"Then you left your family," She mused aloud, instead of issuing blame or demanding recourse for his previous actions. "Why?"

"Because fighting each other isn't the real war. There are…" He looked to Eli, realizing he probably shouldn't be speaking so frankly to a child, but Eli gave him another microscopic nod. "We have real enemies out there in the Chaos. We don't have time for this nonsense."

"Eli?"

The general looked down at her. "Yes?"

"Is he the one?" She asked Eli, and Samakro realized her piercing gaze was on him, not Thrawn. That wasn't right-

"He is."

"Good," She murmured slowly, then her face burned when she realized she had said it aloud, but only a little. She nodded politely to Thrawn. "I mean no offense," She said.

"None taken," Thrawn responded, kindly enough.

"You're reassigning me?" 

"That was always the plan, Captain," Eli said, without that infuriating Chiss smugness. He spoke to inform, not to pull one over on him. "Thrawn is needed here." He looked between him and Ren'yra, consideringly. 

"I will agree to a trial," Ren'yra said. "If the Captain agrees."

"My thought was to have her shadow you in the coming days, before you return to your ship. If you're both agreeable, we'll assign her to the _Springhawk_."

He resisted the urge to sigh. The last thing he needed was a kid following him around. 

Samakro didn’t do kids. He didn’t hold hands or coddle. He had wars to fight and he wasn’t about to give up what little undisturbed rest he had to soothe some brat’s nightmare. No offense to them, of course. It just wasn’t his wheelhouse. He’d done it when he had to, but he’d really rather not.

So if this girl needed support, he wanted to know now so he could make the arrangements. "Will you need a momish with you?"

The girl wrinkled her nose again, but this time her bright eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared as if he'd insulted her. Her words were scorching. "Tell me what time you wish for me to report and I will be there, Captain Samakro.”

Well, he thought, when the plans were made, and the girl had stalked off on her own, it was probably for the best. She’d have a shift with him just to fulfill their mutual obligation to their superior then move on, and it would be on mutual terms.

“Ren’yra was from the last raid before you joined us,” General Eli said, calling their ‘liberation’ of the Navigators what it was, instead of masking it with political niceties. “She was their self-imposed leader. She’s high strung and she doesn’t appreciate being coddled.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Samakro said, and he was. Still, he scoffed, “But I don’t think I’m the one.”

“Give her a chance,” Eli said. Human eyes were weird, dim and multi-toned, but relatively easy to read. He was amused by all this, the bastard. Samakro didn’t dare cast a glance at Thrawn to see if he wore a matching expression. “You’re welcome to refuse her, just as she may very well refuse you for suggesting she needed a momish.” Eli shrugged.

“We’ll see,” He gritted. “We’ll know by the end of my next shift.”

“Indeed we will,” He said. “Thank you, Captain Samakro.”

Samakro inclined his head, sensing the conversation was over. With an acknowledging nod to Thrawn, he stalked off, hoping that, if nothing else, the girl wouldn’t impede his ability to do his job. If the girl wanted a commander she felt safe and comforted by, it definitely wouldn’t be Samakro.


	18. Chapter 18

Most remember war and battles past as the main confrontation, glossing over the preparations for those storied battles. The truth was far less glamorous. War was mostly planning, and battles at times felt like minutes or seconds wound down. Battles were decided in instants, not hours or days. A good tactician - more aptly, a prepared one - typically knew the outcome of a battle from the start.

There were, of course, benefits to fighting a battle one could not win, or even staging a purposeful loss. Neither were terribly enjoyable pursuits, but in some situations, such underhanded and ugly options were necessary for sake of the greater war.

That had not been a lesson he had imparted upon Eli. Thrawn had shown him how to create perceived openings and how to outmaneuver opponents. This current engagement was a clear indication of Ar’alani’s tutelage combined with his former protégé’s own strengths.

Eli and Ar'alani were playing dirty, as Faro had said after the latest group planning session. They were initiating a battle they had no intention of winning or even fighting in, for sake of a plan that would take time to cultivate to fruition.

It was not the kind of plan Thrawn enjoyed. He saw its necessity, and he endorsed the participants, but he did not enjoy the sheer number of variables, or the unknowns. It felt desperate, which, overall they were. Thrawn despised it.

He was still unused to the vast majority of his life consisting of elements beyond his control, despite his attempts to wrest it back. 

In the weeks since their arrival, things had realigned and balanced into some semblance of normalcy. He had been more or less debriefed by Ar'alani, divulging the details of his time in the Empire that were of note. That had been unpleasant but manageable. He had been made captain of the _Steadfast_ and Admiral Ar'alani's indisputable first officer.

Faro was welcomed as an officer herself, sticking close to Eli as she adapted to the Ascendancy's ways. Her temper hadn’t arisen yet. She was still playing cautiously. Thrawn did not blame her, though he had no doubt her fiery personality would make itself known sooner rather than later.

It was Bridger who had the most difficulty adapting. The language barrier was still extreme enough to warrant additional lessons with another, more experienced teacher. The Jedi was coming along nicely in the short period of time that he had been learning Cheunh, but he had a long way to go. In fact, he might never entirely master the language. He didn’t seem to have that particular talent so much as a drive to learn to overcome the obstacle, the barriers to the greater problem.

The young man’s solution was the part that irritated Thrawn. The Jedi hovered. After spending so much time at odds with each other, during which they maintained a respectable distance, they had somehow crossed an unspoken barrier in the Jedi’s view of acquaintanceship. He was not thrilled by the prospect. 

Between that, their shared living space, and the unorthodoxy that had become the status quo aboard the _Steadfast_ , Thrawn had no solitude, and even less silence. It made contemplation… difficult. Not impossible, but certainly a challenge. Even the bridge was loud.

And that, had led to this.

He had meant to have a meeting with Eli, a discussion of ship affairs and personnel. They did not have nearly enough time for research in addition to their other duties on the shorthanded flagship, but had made a point to link up and at least express some semblance of progress. Most of the time it was Eli’s study of the numbers combined with Thrawn’s studies of familial art history.

But Eli had seen something in his face when they'd met in their usual conference room and changed their plans. 

Thus, Thrawn found himself in the office space of Eli's personal quarters - a place he could not be disturbed as no one knew he was there - finally achieving solitude. 

The office had been organized since the previous time he'd been here, the stacks of questises and commlinks now absent and contained elsewhere. Most notably, Thrawn got the feeling that Eli did not use this space. He had cleaned, but not for his own use.

Eli had learned to anticipate Thrawn’s needs as his aide. But now, given their current status and ranks, such gestures were... unnecessary. Even so, Thrawn endeavored to make the most of it. The other man had immediately sought out his sleeping quarters - through the door to the right of where Thrawn presently sat, behind the desk - intent to do exactly that for an hour or three while Thrawn worked. 

He summoned up pieces of art to fill the empty space in the office where a sitting area would be staged. Instead, it was mostly empty, except for the sleep couch pushed up against the wall to his left and the stack of combat armor on a chair beside it. He began with the obvious first, looking to sort out fundamental differences between their values as to better attempt to understand the current political alignment. Chiss artwork was prideful and boasting, intended to be perfection manifested. Almost none of it ever depicted failures, and certainly none of that work had ever been put on display. A great deal of their treasured artifacts denoted military victories or shows of strength and prowess. 

It took time to develop a pattern, among his own people, to separate his own beliefs from the works’ truths. Though he had studied art even as a young man, his attentions were drawn outward, toward what mattered with regard to military procedures and executing plans. He had never focused so extensively on the families before: their fundamental differences and the layers added by the influence of adoptives from other, lesser families as well as the navigators whose sight had faded. It could easily become misleading.

When no further answers were forthcoming, he scaled back his attention to the works of the families overall. Instead, he focused on his own family. The Mitth were calculating, severe and exacting in their execution, down to the finest detail. The family’s works were typically sculptures or engravings in stonework, the ornamental staffs that lined the mountains of the homestead where the trials were held.

The work was serious and spoke again of the Chiss core values of pride and loyalty to one’s family. To progression and honor to them over all. They chose simulations over familial portraits, desiring true depictions instead of a recreated likeness. 

It spoke of cautiousness and the ensuing stagnation. A recurring unwillingness to adapt and evolve, woven in and out of the generations. The inability to take a calculated risk, to accept and adapt to the way all aspects of life inevitably changed.

He had been focusing on an age-old sculpture that depicted a long dead Patriarch when the main door to the general’s suite opened, a navigator letting herself in through the biometric scanner outside the door.

“Hello Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Un’hee said softly, careful to tilt her head up enough to meet his eyes before letting her gaze drop to the floor. There was evidence of poorly concealed tears on her cheeks. “I did not mean to disturb you.”

\----------

The sound of the outer door being toggled had rendered Eli instantly awake. It had only been about two hours since he’d laid down, having long since developed the means to fall asleep instantly. After all, it was the only way he’d ever get anything close to six hours of sleep these days and even that hardly seemed like enough.

At first, he’d suspected that Thrawn had left. That was fine, he’d made sure to tell Thrawn he was free to do as he wished within Eli’s quarters. When Thrawn had made no further move to return to Eli’s bed since his first night back, Eli hadn’t pushed. They were busy people with responsibilities and duties to attend to. He’d received confirmation that his feelings were reciprocated to a degree, even if they hadn’t entirely discussed it. 

While a less professional and highly impatient part of him - the unburied part of him that had accepted his feelings and speculated rather thoroughly about Thrawn’s own - considered pushing the envelope, he knew patience was the better play. He had been the one to stop Thrawn, after all. He had no doubts that they would have passed a rather significant point of no return if he had chosen not to.

And there had been reasons for that patience. Reasons like this one.

“Good evening, Un’hee,” Thrawn’s voice carried through the door. “Are you alright?”

Eli felt a stab of sympathetic pain. It was right around the first hours of a new shipboard day, and that was Un’hee’s typical timeframe for waking from a nightmare.

“I’m fine,” She said, voice almost too soft to hear through the thickness of his door. “I just needed a quiet place. Eli lets me stay here sometimes,” She added softly.

He could almost see Thrawn glancing at his door consideringly, wondering if perhaps he should wake Eli, uncertain as to how he should proceed. But Eli knew Thrawn was good with younger beings, especially children who trended away from the norm. Eli knew a lot of things now. He knew that Sky-walkers and Navigators - and their treatment - was a sore spot for Thrawn. A motivation he kept well-hidden and maybe didn’t even realize he acted upon. Eli’s own ability to bridge the gap with the Ascendancy’s gifted children had helped him achieve higher rank, and had been a focus upon which his relationship had been built with Admiral Ar’alani. The Ascendancy’s children were so important in ways they didn’t realize.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Thrawn asked her carefully, and Eli could hear how he’d moved, slipping around the desk without a sound to welcome her into the space, rather than turn her away. 

She hummed in the affirmative. He heard her breathing change, a little hiccough, and guessed that Thrawn was making for the door to his bedroom. “If he is asleep, don’t bother him,” She said, a little wobbly but steadier than Eli was expecting. Some nights she came to him half asleep, seeking comfort, others she tried to process it on her own, first. “If I won’t disturb you..”

Thrawn said, “If Eli allows it, it is not my place to deny you.”

“No,” The girl hedged, no doubt looking at whatever simulated artwork he’d projected throughout the room, “But sometimes it is difficult to contemplate with others around.”

“Sometimes,” He relented, “But I surmise we can make the most of the silence together.” She must have agreed, because Thrawn’s voice shifted back in the direction of the large desk. “Shall I dim the lights for you?”

“I was going to journal,” She said softly, no doubt shaking her head. “It puts my mind to rest.”

“Then by all means,” He beckoned her, clearly realizing her tone and standoffishness for what it was. Un’hee was more likely to seek consolation by osmosis, being near another rather than talking. She tended to prefer himself or Ar’alani. It made complete sense by that logic, that she would feel the same about Thrawn.

Another rustle. Un’hee must have located the blanket and pillow she used when she slept over. Then, the quiet scratches of graphite on paper. He heard the sound of the desk chair accommodating the larger Chiss as Thrawn sank into it, the small chime of the projector changing out works for him to evaluate. Eli exhaled quietly to himself, listening another moment for any signs of distress from either party, and closed his eyes.

\----------

“Morning,” Eli drawled in Cheunh as he toggled the door to his quarters, sticking his head out into the main space to greet him. His hair was still wet from the shower he’d taken, but was no longer dripping. He must have heard Thrawn switch off the projector. Un’hee had been asleep for over an hour now. For his part, he’d been so deep in mediation that he had not realized the shower had been on at all until it had stopped.

The door remaining open was an invitation, and Thrawn moved stealthily through the space, coming to rest in the doorway. The human was dressed in all but boots and tunic. Thrawn eyed him, chest throwing color in the infrared despite his undershirt from the heat of the water Eli had never been overly muscular, but he had always been toned, not quite as slender as more effeminately framed beings but not as broad-shouldered as Thrawn was himself. The human was, in Thrawn’s estimation, pleasing in the physical sense.

"Hello, Eli," He returned smoothly, all the while dragging his gaze up from the thin shirt covering Eli's chest to meet his eyes. Eli had noticed him watching but made no comment, gave off no sign of discomfort or lack of self confidence either in stance or coloration. Thrawn had never particularly cared about Eli's build or appearance in the first place, only cataloging the details of expressions and body language. But now, Thrawn had started to consider other aspects of the man. Like heat of the human's skin, far warmer than his own. Like putting his hands on Eli's chest, beneath his shirt and feeling it for himself. 

Such thoughts were hardly professional but they were also not unwelcome. At least, not here and now.

"Make any progress?" He asked, opening the small closet where his tunic hung but making no move to reach for it or his belted sash.

"Some," Thrawn supposed. "You have another guest," He added, in case Eli wasn't aware.

"That happens more frequently than you might think," Eli supposed, and Thrawn raised an eyebrow. "It's not every night," He continued, "But often enough. Thank you for talking to her."

"Night terrors?" Thrawn speculated.

"Often, yes," Eli said gravely, "But not always." He motioned for Thrawn to come into his bedroom before stepping around him and out into the rest of his suite.

The girl woke with a quiet call of Eli’s name at the sound of someone approaching, but he shushed her, pulling the blanket up over her more completely before bidding her a dreamless sleep. Eli disappeared from sight, and a dim light from the other end of the suite cast soft, dim light over the edge of the sleep couch. He returned in less than a minute, closing the door behind him.

“What is it?” Thrawn asked, looking into Eli’s eyes and feeling the weight of whatever he had yet to say. Whatever it was, he was warring with himself over whether or not this was the best time, before he must have decided it could not wait.

“Your Jedi is dreaming of Un’hee’s experiences,” He said, leaning back against the door. “Ar’alani told me.”

“He said it has not happened recently. Not since we’ve been aboard the _Steadfast_ ,” He informed Eli, watching the human’s jaw work and his shoulders grow tighter with mounting tension. “And he is hardly my Jedi.”

“He trusts you, Thrawn.” He waved a hand. “He pretends with Ar’alani, but you know she sees right through that sort of thing.”

“She does,” Thrawn agreed, then considered his words and what Eli was hoping he would or would not say. It didn’t change the truth. “Bridger asked about her. Ar’alani informed us that she no longer had the gift of Sight.”

“Yes,” Eli said, crossing his arms, not elaborating. It was a sure indication that he was hiding something. Or, if not hiding it, was unready to impart what additional information he had. He leaned against the closed door behind him. He looked beyond Thrawn, seeing something that was not there.

"Was it trauma related?"

"I’m sure that had something to do with it," Eli said, his dark gaze refocusing on Thrawn who now sat on the edge of his bed. "But that isn't the point." He sighed. “What Ar’alani didn’t tell the Jedi is that Unhee has been dreaming about him, too.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that a small warning regarding ptsd might be necessary for this one. There is nothing graphic, just some tears. Un'hee had a rough childhood. Thankfully, she has an Eli.

First shift aboard the _Steadfast_ was always a whirl of activity, which was why Un’hee strove to wake before it, to dress and get breakfast before returning to the expanded Navigator’s Section to work on her lessons. It was easier to focus while it was quiet, and so long as she completed lessons and assigned tasks, the caretakers gave her a wide berth, and didn't complain about her slipping out at night to seek the Eli or the Admiral. 

She knew they didn't like or understand it, but it really wasn't any of their business. 

There were voices coming from inside Eli's room, muted by the closed door. Before she could sit up, she heard a muted buzzing, the ambient drone of hair cutters being activated.

Ah, she thought, Mitth'raw'nuruodo did not like his long hair. She could tell by the way he attempted to ignore it, but she had caught him shoving it behind his ears while thinking. She knew Eli would fix it. Eli was good at that sort of thing. 

She must have woken up towards the end of it though, because she heard the sound of the interior door closing and the shower turning on, and then Eli was stepping out of his room within a matter of minutes.

"Good morning," He greeted her, shrugging into his pristine white tunic, then snapping together the belt and sash that completed his uniform.

"Are you leaving?" Un'hee wondered aloud.

"Just going to patrol the ship," He informed her. "Care to take a walk?"

She did. It was still early enough that there would not be questions about her roaming the halls with Eli, because very few Chiss were around to see. She pressed closely to his side, and allowed herself to be steered to the Navigator's Section to change and complete her morning hygiene before he brought her along to complete his task. 

It wasn’t until they were on their way back, and Un’hee was much more awake, that Eli spoke.

“I need to ask you something,” He said, coming to a stop in the hall outside his quarters. “But first I want you to promise me you won’t agree to it if you feel uncomfortable.”

She frowned at that. Usually adults said those kinds of things when questions were going to be uncomfortable no matter what. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Un’hee. Nothing’s wrong, it’s just-” He ran a hand through his hair, rested his palm against the back of his head self consciously - she hadn’t seen that from him in some time, she thought - and sighed. “I just don’t want you thinking you have to do something just because I was the one who asked you.”

She pondered that, wringing her hands together in front of her. It was hard to tell Eli no, because she wanted him to want her around, but… He was quick to sense her discomfort and explain that it was okay to have boundaries. They had talked about it a lot. Sometimes she didn't even realize she was doing it until something was too much, and even then he had only ever praised her for recognizing her own discomfort. The emotions such situations gave her were confusing and tangled, but she resolved to try just the same.

“Okay,” She said, having thought it over, “You can ask."

"I would like to show your dream journal to Thrawn," He said slowly, giving her time to process each word. Her brow furrowed but she didn't comment, so he continued. "He says that the Sky-walker he brought back with him has been having dreams about some of your experiences-"

"Do I have to talk to the Sky-walker?" She asked, suddenly nervous.

"We haven't told him anything," Eli promised. "And we won't, unless you'd like us to." He crouched down so that he was eye level with her. "Does he frighten you?"

"No," She said, with a swift shake of her head. "But if he is dreaming about-" She trailed off, not wanting to discuss whatever horrors she'd faced. It was enough that Vah'nya shared those memories, and that Eli listened to her when she was willing to speak. "He will ask questions, and I do not want-"

When Un'hee began to cry, Eli reached out and thumbed away her tears. It always made her cry more, because before Ar'alani and Eli, she could not remember others caring for her. She knew she had once had parents, but she did not know (nor did she want to know) their fate. Eli did not shush her, but he did gather her into his arms, letting her cling to him and and press her face against his collar so no one could see her tears.

Crying like this, in a way she couldn’t help, was awful and she didn't like it. It made her feel heavy and empty, and most times she just wanted to go back to sleep for days or weeks. She could not, though, she knew. It would pass, eventually. Eli, because he was Eli and knew exactly what she needed, had taken to wandering aimlessly through the ship's upper decks, the motion and his presence enough to soothe. 

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo is waiting for us, isn't he?" She asked. She had stumbled through his name three times before managing to make her thick tongue work properly.

"He can wait," Eli promised quietly into her ear. "He understands that this is not an easy thing to ask."

"Why does he want to know?"

"He wants to make sure we can trust the Jedi." She looked up at him. His jaw was set, firm. 

"They were enemies, before," She agreed, before tucking her face back against his tunic.

"Yes. His people are not strong enough to harm us-"

"They were not bad," Un'hee interjected. "Their motib-motivations were good," She whispered.

“I don’t doubt that,” He agreed, adding, “But sometimes people do bad things for good reasons.”

“We all do.” She closed her eyes. “Do you want me to tell him about it?”

Eli’s hand was warm on her back, holding her tightly, but he didn’t speak until she pulled back to look into his eyes. “I want you to trust your instincts. If you don’t think the time is right, then we won’t talk to him about it.”

“But I am no longer a Sky-walker. My instincts might not be right.” She fisted the fingers of one hand on his sleeve. “What if I’m wrong?”

“Then you’re wrong, and we’ll tackle it together.” He smiled. “Just because you don’t have your Sight anymore doesn’t mean your instincts are any lesser. They kept you alive, and they still do. Have faith in yourself.” She clung to him a little tighter. “I trust you, Un’hee. And I’ll stand by whatever you choose.”

“Do I have to decide right now?”

“Absolutely not,” He said. “I don’t think Ezra Bridger means us harm. But I also agree that we should be cautious. You’ve been wary of him for a reason, and I don’t want him making things worse for you.”

“Even if he’s trying to help?”

“Even then,” He admitted, holding her a little tighter, the indication of a hug. “But that’s because it’s my job to protect you.”

When they returned to Eli’s suite, Thrawn did not immediately ask him for an update like she had expected. In fact, he seemed to be studying more art, though his fingers were also rapidly scrolling through some information on his questis at the same time. She wondered if he could even read all of it. She still struggled with reading, sometimes. She did not have the same education as her sisters, and though she was just as curious and inquisitive as any child was, she knew she was behind in some areas, but very far ahead of them in other aspects of life, overall.

“Eli,” She whispered quietly, tensing and holding tight to him when he went to put her down. He straightened again, readjusted her slight weight in his arms. “Will he be angry with me?”

She watched him exchange a look with Thrawn, the way his eyes were mostly that deep murky color but also flecked with depths that reminded her of fire if they caught the light the right way. That was his protective look, the one that warned another to choose their words with caution. She twisted to see if it had intimidated Thrawn, but he stayed still, head tilted curiously, expression unchanged.

“I would not,” Thrawn confirmed. “I will respect your privacy-”

“Not for that,” Un’hee interrupted, side-eying the journal still half tucked beneath her pillow, right where she had left it. He had not simply taken the information he sought, no matter how tempting it might have been. She could respect that. “For the other thing.”

Eli set her down this time and she let him. “Ah,” He mused, stroking his chin once. “That will make him angry,” He said, “But not at you.”

“You did not tell him?” She frowned at him. He didn’t correct her contradicting question. “I thought-”

Un’hee had thought he would have told Thrawn. Eli was… close with Thrawn. She didn’t know any other way to describe it. They seemed to fit together, balancing each other out. Eli was fiery where Thrawn was cool, steady where Thrawn felt chaotic and adrift. They were very much the same inside, but they showed those similarities differently. It was like a puzzle. Sometimes it was hard to see how they might fit together until the pieces were side-by-side.

“No,” Eli said, tensing slightly. “ Would you like me to tell him?”

She looked between the two of them, saw Eli’s mounting worry and Thrawn’s concern rising to meet it. What Eli was worried about, she guessed, was Thrawn’s reaction, his anger, and how it might impact her. Thrawn was withdrawn, most of the time, she knew. And a part of her wanted to see. Eli trusted him with everything - with his path in life and with himself and their people. She had seen what the Jedi had once felt about Thrawn, but she also saw how they interacted now. She’d been watching.

She wanted to find out for herself, not through Eli or a human Sky-walker. 

“No,” She said, squaring her shoulders and meeting that intense red gaze. “I will tell him.”

\----------

Thrawn’s knuckles were pale, turned milk-blue from how tight he’d been squeezing the armrests of Eli’s desk chair. Eli hadn't thought Un’hee would want to talk now, so he'd been quite surprised when she'd gone straight to the core issue, the one he had personally held off on talking to Thrawn about. 

Not that telling him was a bad thing. In fact, informing Thrawn had always been on the agenda. Still, he couldn’t just tell him what happened. The situation was delicate and volatile. Thrawn had never understood politics, not even with regard to his own people. So telling Thrawn meant explaining everything, even the ugly parts, and the long term ones that might not matter now, but would matter when war was over. 

It might be the hardest discussion - no, it _would_ be the hardest discussion they ever had. Eli could see that much on Thrawn’s face. The older man was nearly always composed. If he appeared otherwise, it was typically to further a plan and not because he was out of control. In this case, that control was put to use to rein in his emotions, to keep them muted and stoic. Initially, Eli had worried that Thrawn’s obviously tested restraint would upset Un’hee as she told her tale. It did not. Instead, he watched as Un’hee’s eyes narrowed on Thrawn, cataloging each shift of the man’s fingers, the slightest twitch of a muscle in his face, when he clenched his jaw at the information she laid out.

And when Thrawn had looked at Eli, eyes glittering darkly, silently demanding him to deny it, to give some inclination that Un’hee was embellishing as younglings so often did, Eli had met that intense, arguably dangerous gaze without hesitation, and let those matching feelings rise to the surface. He saw the murderous fury that flickered in those usually cool red eyes, the way he just barely held back the snarling growl, how his chest tensed with the effort to hold it in. Eli knew that fury. It was fuel to a fire that had not stopped burning since this whole thing began.

That exchange between them had been what Un’hee was been waiting for, Eli realized. The girl ducked between their locked gazes and pulled the small journal from beneath her pillow on the sleep couch and set it gingerly in front of Thrawn on the desk.

“You may look,” She said softly, and only then had Thrawn looked away from Eli. Her hand remained on the cover, keeping it closed. “But I do not wish for you to talk to the human Sky-walker about it,” She said, levying a look too serious for one so young. “Do we have a deal?”

Thrawn scrutinized her, no doubt being subjected to an earnestly serious look from the child who had found her way beneath Eli’s wing. The Chiss, to his credit, did not look for Eli’s approval.

“You have my word, Un’hee. Any discussions of your dreams will not leave this room without your permission.”

“I mean, the admiral’s office is okay, too,” She admitted sheepishly.

Thrawn gave her a half-smile, the left side of his lips curving upward and holding for a matter of seconds. “As you say,” He relented easily. He doubted Un’hee picked it up, but Eli heard the hoarseness, the slightest dry edge to Thrawn’s voice. “I thank you for your trust.”

She nodded her head as graciously as a child could, then turned to Eli. “Is that okay?”

He nodded, but his smile was a little wider than Thrawn’s. “Yes, Un’hee, it’s okay.”

“I’ll just need it later,” She said, turning back to Thrawn, a little anxiously.

“Does it happen every night?”

“No,” Un’hee refuted. “Sometimes I don’t even dream, but-” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, and shrugged. “I’ll dream tonight,” She said, trying to be casual about it.

“I apologize for dredging up unpleasant memories,” He said.

“Thank you for not being angry with me,” She replied.

“Anyone who finds fault with you,” Thrawn said, “Is-” He hissed a particularly vicious curse that had Un’hee’s eyes widening comically. “This is _not_ your fault.” He stressed. His eyes flashed in something akin to protective fury. He shifted that strong gaze to Eli. “Either of you.”

“It’s not yours either,” Eli was quick to add, just as stern. “Some people are just inherently evil.”

That might have been so, and Eli had no doubt Thrawn knew that, but he also knew Thrawn was tracing the pathways and possibilities back to their origin and coming up with himself as an answer. So when he’d finished with Un’hee, walking the girl first to the mess to get an undisturbed breakfast and then to her caretakers who were given explicit instructions as to her monitoring for the day, Eli stopped by Ar’alani’s office, informed his superior of the situation, and had things shuffled around so that the ship could operate without them. He couldn’t leave things half said. Not about this.

When he returned, the journal lay on Eli’s desk, unopened. The room was dark, cast in the soft glow of art projections. 

Thrawn was so ensconced in his thought that he had not moved when Eli entered, but his eyelids fluttered when Eli keyed off the projection. Not long after, the full weight of that gaze was turned upon him. 

“Let me start from the beginning,” Eli said.


	20. Chapter 20

Eli told Thrawn the truth. 

He started with what Thrawn knew: his discovery of the common genetic link to Sight and then the algorithm, how it had been something Ar’alani had been forced to share. How, at that same time, he had found himself inundated with a badly adjusting Un’hee who craved affection and understanding, two necessary components she could not get from the caretakers aboard their ship.

Un’hee had been a special case. No Navigators had ever been reclaimed from the Grysks as she had. None had traversed through their Hegemony, or lived in their service for such an impressionable period of time. She did not trust her caretakers, and they could not connect with her. Un’hee had been afraid of almost everything and everyone. Her emotional state was fragile and tentative at best.

And then, to make matters worse, her Sight had begun to fade. She had barely been eight years old. Ar’alani had made the executive decision to keep her aboard and utilize her for normal hyperspace routes that could be course corrected, in an attempt to keep her from losing any forward momentum she had gained. However, Un’hee had been informed of what would happen, sooner rather than later.

He had paused to see if Thrawn had any questions. The Chiss remained silent, waiting for him to continue. He all but demanded it, based on the sharp gleam in his eye.

He spoke of that first trip to Csaplar, to the ornate political building on the outskirts of the empty city, how he and Un'hee had accompanied Ar'alani. He, because he'd been the one making these connections, and the young, failing navigator in hopes that perhaps she might not be so afraid through exposure. 

Thrawn knew how the story went. Un'hee had said that no one understood, that the families were greedy and selfish and she felt conflict and chaos, that they couldn't be trusted. "That was when she asked to join your family."

"Yes," Eli said, standing behind Thrawn to look out the tiny viewport into space. "Ar'alani was so shocked that she came out and asked, she couldn't speak. By the time she told Un'hee that wasn't the way things were done, it was too late."

"She had said it in front of Thurfian? That seems unlikely."

"She didn't. It was Ronan who overheard." Eli looked over his shoulder, catching the smooth glide of the chair out of the corner of his eye. "But if Ronan hadn't acted, there were plenty of other secretaries and syndics around to overhear."

He clenched his fists and continued. "Ar'alani had arranged for Ronan to have a desk in the capital, doing admin work. He was smart, and he knew how to build connections, who to flatter, all of that. He had seen Vah'nya's precognition at work. He knew what the navigators were from the first."

Thrawn's growl was a low, primitive-sounding thing that under better circumstances might have excited him, but Eli didn't comment. 

"He'd built connections using the wrong assumptions - he thought you were well connected and powerful within your family. After all, you were highly decorated, your career was nearly flawless-" Eli winced at Thrawn's deadpan look, the sheer disagreement plain across his face, "He managed to play his cards right and get an audience with then Speaker Thurfian, and when he realized how the Mitth - at least this particular one - felt about you, he told him what what he witnessed with Un'hee. He made some off-handed comment, and you can imagine how it went from there."

"The rumors that you were turning the Ascendancy against each other and planning to steal navigators," Thrawn summarized blandly. "And where is he now?"

"Dead."

Thrawn's eyes flashed. "Did you-"

"Yes." Eli said. Thrawn nodded.

"I imagine you were kinder than he deserved."

"Probably," He supposed. He had taken no joy in killing Ronan, in pointing his blaster between the man’s eyes and firing. But he had done it to protect the Ascendancy from whatever other damning commentary the other human could spin unfavorably against them. “He wasn’t trying to start a war,” Eli said. “He was trying to get back to Krennic and win favor.”

“He hated the Emperor.”

“He did,” Eli said. “But we didn’t exactly like Pryce and we ended up in an unspoken alliance with her,” He pointed out. “He was desperate to go home, and he knew you were a traitor to the Empire.”

“Eli-”

“I’m not mad about that,” Eli promised. “I understand why you did what you did.”

“You should be,” He said, looking at his steepled fingers.

Turning away from the viewport, he looked down at Thrawn. “If I had stayed, I think you would’ve told me eventually. But that wasn’t an available option. You trusted I’d see reason.”

“And the cost to you?”

“Worth it.” He searched Thrawn’s eyes. “What this cost you is what I take issue with.” He had leaned down slightly to better meet Thrawn’s gaze, unconsciously drawn closer together to the Chiss. When he straightened, Thrawn tilted his head curiously. “Thurfian pushed for your exile. He’s afraid of you. By extension, that means he’s afraid of me. Nothing we will ever do will be enough.”

“ _That_ was why he started a war?”

Eli sighed. There was no easy way to say this. “Integrating the Sky-walkers into the ruling families had been on their agenda for years. It had never had enough traction to stick, but with tensions growing between the families, it became something they could agree on. Then, I figured out how to identify a child as a navigator and that brought it back to the forefront of discussion. Still, it wasn’t quite enough.”

“But if they believed-”

“Yes,” Eli said. “If they believed that I was trying to take Navigators, if Ar’alani and me and portions of the CDF were somehow under your control-” He bowed his head. "Thurfian’s plan was simple and unavoidable. Ar'alani figured out that the session we’d been invited to was a trap. They’d asked her to bring Un’hee. Whe never thought he...”

"Thurfian would have killed her, too," Thrawn muttered darkly. "If her sight had faded already and he knew it, she was no longer an asset." Eli nodded. He'd thought the same. “So his plan was to take your results - results that would change the lives of every Sky-walker in the Ascendancy, as well as eliminate the threats to his plans, leaving him merely with the theatre in which he excelled: Politics.”

“It’s a horrific plan,” Eli agreed, “But it worked.”

"You have a plan for exposing Thurfian?" He asked Eli.

"Right now, we're trying to isolate the Mitth. Supply lines, allies, anything we can do without engaging our own forces in battle."

"Yes," Thrawn mused. "We need to save our resources for whatever our true enemies are planning for us."

"I agree," Eli said, crossing his arms and eyeing the countless stars outside the ship. "But I also have another duty to uphold." 

"The Sky-walkers," Thrawn said.

"Yes. Outside of Ar'alani and myself, no other has seen the algorithm." He set his jaw and looked at Thrawn. "And I cannot allow anyone to use it."

"But they know it exists," Thrawn pointed out.

"Somewhat," Eli said. "There is a rumor that the algorithm is a success. I know it is, but the truth is that it will take years to produce the evidence to back my claims factually."

Thrawn shook his head once. "Even the rumor that it is successful will make people seek it out. The Chiss are prideful, yes, even obsessive when it comes to goals-" He gave Eli a stern look, and Eli played coy. "This link is something my people have obsessed over for lifetimes, Eli. They will not let it go."

"No," Eli said, "They won't. Which is why they must think it never existed in the first place. That I made it up."

"And then what?” His eyes narrowed. “You will destroy it?"

"No," Eli refuted, willing Thrawn to understand through the rough seriousness in his tone. "It must be protected, until our people are ready."

“Do you think they will ever be?” Thrawn asked him. “All people are corrupted by power and greed.”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to believe they will, someday. But first, I think they need to see the Sky-walkers less as tools and more like people.”

Thrawn’s eyes were hard, but thoughtful. “If only it were that simple.”

\----------

It was after his lesson with one of the junior lieutenants - a stout, strict woman named Gleeb who really enjoyed teaching him Cheunh through puzzle games - that Thrawn had come to him.

First and foremost, the Chiss's hair was shorter, slicked back as it had been the first time they'd met. It made him look more severe, the sharpness of his forehead and jaw more pronounced. It also added immensely to the intensity in his eyes, the way their glow illuminated his deep blue skin.

"Nice haircut," Ezra said, when Thrawn remained quiet. He was used to carrying on one-sided conversations until the Chiss either left him to his own devices or came out with whatever it was he wanted. "Lieutenant Gleeb really thinks she's funny. I don't need to do her stupid worksheets." He eyed Thrawn. "I know they're meant for children."

"You need to learn," Thrawn said, and Ezra had begun to notice when Thrawn slowed his words to give him time to translate. Gleeb usually just rambled at him until he stared at her cluelessly or understood what she meant. 

"Faro doesn't have to-"

"Do not concern yourself with Faro. I know for a fact she attends lessons that are as enjoyable as yours."

"I thought she said that to make me feel better," Ezra groused. He had traded commentary with her about their lessons. She agreed with him about the Chiss really dumbing everything down, but always with that edge of professionalism.

"Hardly. She dislikes being out of her depth as much as you do. Even more so, considering her age."

"Yeah, I don't think you should say that to her," He said nonchalantly. Thrawn looked at him curiously. Did the Chiss really not get it? Apparently not. Faro would be so insulted it wasn't (okay it was, a little) funny. "You'd be calling her old," Ezra explained.

"I am older than she is."

"Yeah, but-" He shrugged. If Thrawn wanted to say something like that to Faro, he would. Ezra just hoped he’d be around when it happened to see the look on the woman’s face. "Nevermind. What's wrong with you?"

That bluntness, the way Ezra could turn from casual conversation to completely lancing the core issue, never failed to evoke a response from Thrawn. It wasn’t a physical one, but more like a ripple in the man’s glacial calmness in the Force. Ezra had learned that Thrawn was respectful of a power that he could not harness or ever truly understand. For a long time, Ezra had thought Thrawn feared what it was that he could do with the Force on his side. But it wasn’t simply fear. It was, on some level, but it was more of a bone-deep wariness.

Thrawn always took an extra moment to study him when the conversations were turned like this. Ezra didn’t bother telling Thrawn what he thought Thrawn was feeling. He might catch some glimpses, and he’d certainly tried to pin certain emotions or responses on him more times than he could count, but Thrawn was difficult. So, Ezra let him turn that seemingly omnipotent gaze upon him and evaluate whatever it was he could see.

"There is nothing wrong with me."

"Huh," Ezra said, and made his shrug larger than it needed to be. "You seem a little on edge."

The Chiss made a hum that sounded almost reptilian, not quite a hiss but definitely not melodic or pleasant sounding. "Not at all," He replied, then looked down at the much younger human. "I know you are still attempting to seek outl Un'hee," He continued.

Ezra winced. "What does that have to do with anything?" He asked, voice rising in pitch, betraying that he hadn't actually meant to say that out loud.

With Thrawn, that was as good as an admission. It wasn't that he necessarily _wanted_ to seek her out, either. But he wanted to know what he'd been dreaming about. The Sky-walkers kept to themselves and we're leery of outsiders. But he'd been in this one's dreams - not of his own will, but he'd been there - and he wanted to know how she felt. Surely she'd feel the same if she dreamt about his life, right? It was only natural to be a little curious.

"You must not seek her out," He repeated. "She-"

"Thrawn, I can feel it when she's in a room-"

"You are capable of distinguishing beings in the Force, you said," Thrawn pressed.

Ezra tugged at his hair, frustrated. "Yes, but this is different. It's like… like the Force _wants_ me to talk to her."

"And what about her wishes?" Thrawn's eyes were bright and yet somehow dark and foreboding, narrowed and furious.

He pieced it together. Something _had_ happened. Something with the former Sky-walker, most likely. He doubted he'd be able to push Thrawn about it. "Look, if she doesn't want to talk, I won't push. But if the Force keeps pushing us together, it's going to happen, whether you - or anybody else - wants it to or not."

"Ezra," Thrawn began quietly, trying a different approach, "Do not seek her out. She does not wish to relive her experiences." He paused, eyeing Ezra's admittedly defensive stance. "I realize this is not easy for you and it is… natural to be curious."

"Look, I get it," He answered. "We all have things we don't want to talk about. I swear, I won't-"

"No," Thrawn refuted. "That's an order."

"Yeah, not in your military," Ezra said, pointing to himself. He made a show of ignoring the way Thrawn's nostrils flared. "I'm only here because the Force guided me to be. Just like the Force keeps nudging me towards Un'hee."

"I do not particularly care about the Force or what it wants," The other said. "You _will_ respect her boundaries."

It didn't matter if Ezra was twelve or twenty. He knew that tone. That was the 'I'm The Adult And I Know Best' tone, the one that said Ezra wasn't being listened to, that the speaker simply did not understand. Ezra was used to that. Not from Thrawn, which might have meant something to Ezra if he hadn’t been so pissed off. There would be time for him to face his strange feelings of disappointment about that later.

“Whatever,” He finally spat, frustrated. It hadn’t been the agreement Thrawn was looking for, but Thrawn was used to them being reluctant still-enemies when the mood struck him. If that’s how he chose to read it, that was his business.

Because Thrawn hadn’t gone along for the ride on some galaxy-spanning adventure blindly. He wasn’t a Jedi, there were no whispers in his ear, telling him to hurtle himself into the unknown or befriend his former enemy. But Ezra was. Ezra had made it this far by trusting the Force and giving himself up to its will where needed. And that was exactly what he was going to continue doing.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning to earn our rating towards the end, but nothing graphic here.
> 
> Will come back and proofread later, too impatient to sit on this!!

He hadn’t expected Thrawn to come back, but the biometric scanner on his door made a dull ping of acknowledgement and admitted his former mentor. Eli had wondered if it was a little presumptuous of him, considering they had exactly one shared evening that had led to a rather salacious kiss, but nothing more. Still, he was not twenty-four standard, bright-eyed and baby-faced, anymore, and his chosen partner - if he had his pick - was not a man who would appreciate flirtation. No, Thrawn responded to rationality better than emotion, though Eli was more aware of the undercurrents of emotion the Chiss did not actively show than he had been in the past. And it was rational, and a bit indulgent of him, that he made it known that Thrawn was welcome in his space. 

It was just as much for Thrawn's benefit as it was for Eli, too. He knew being around Faro and Bridger all the time was grating. Not from anything they did wrong, exactly, but… Thrawn was particular. He liked order and solitude. He did not enjoy interruptions though he never acted like they disturbed him. He had that art meditation thing he did to solve a problem, and it had taken a lot of trial and error, but Eli had learned when and how to pull him out of it, how long was too long, and when to proceed or when to handle it himself, depending on the set of his brow, the way his eyes glittered in the dim light.

Being Thrawn's aide had not taught him about the Chiss as a whole. None could compare to Thrawn. Before, they would almost certainly drive each other crazy cooped up together for too long, but that was impossible now. They weren't those people anymore. 

The Chiss had the standard issue bag slung over one shoulder that suggested he’d either been going to or from the dojo on the lower decks, but anyone who paid attention to things would realize he would not have had the time to complete a workout this early into the second shift. “If I am intruding,” Thrawn began, polite as usual, but Eli waved him off.

“Not at all. I was thinking about getting some exercise myself.” He smirked a little. “Interested in seeing if I’ve gotten any better?”

He realized acutely, despite how easily Thrawn agreed, that Thrawn had not understood his logic. Instead, he had thought it to be more along the lines of superficial reasoning. He had not brought his duffel with him for exercise, though it held exercise gear among other articles. He had brought it because he was accepting Eli's invitation to share the space. 

But Eli would not correct this rare oversight.

This was an excuse. An excuse to keep Thrawn's mind busy, to force him to analyze Eli instead of what he'd learned today. Eli knew Thrawn would not stop obsessing over things until he figured them out, until he had pieced the entire puzzle together from fragments. It was an ugly puzzle, Eli thought. An ugly puzzle made of jagged, broken glass.

Their first bout went about how Eli had expected. First, they had stretched, and Eli had been obvious in his examination of Thrawn, looking for any points of weakness or tension. As he expected, there weren't any. He knew Thrawn was older than him by more than a decade, but Chiss kept their physical fitness and general abilities with more grace than a human did. Hell, Eli was pretty sure he had more gray hairs than any Chiss, and he hardly had any.

Eli hadn't tried as hard as he could have, and Thrawn immediately caught onto it, releasing him from the beginnings of a hold on his arm that would have had him vulnerable and easily pinned within seconds if Thrawn exerted even minute pressure.

"Do not throw the match," The Chiss chided, serious. He took a step back. Eli noticed that he wasn't winded, meanwhile Eli had felt his own heart rate begin to rise.

"Why not?" He asked, equally cool. "You were going easy on me, too."

"And what would you have gained from your defeat?"

Eli couldn't help it, he grinned. He'd missed this. "Well I certainly wouldn't have found out if I could actually break your hold," He quipped, shrugging. 

Thrawn tsked at him, the sound like a hiss. Anticipation coiled in Eli's belly. He had no doubt Thrawn would wipe the floor with him, but he might surprise Thrawn a bit along the way. 

It was the third round, after Eli had nearly eked out ahead, only to get tripped and held to the mat by a firm arm across the line of his neck, that Thrawn hovered over him, studying his gaze before relenting and stepping back toward the wall. Eli panted, he'd almost had him, and that was saying something for all his training. He had managed to break a hold and nearly get Thrawn into one of his own. Ar'alani would laugh at him when he told her, then drag them both to the dojo to put on a clinic.

As if reading his mind, Thrawn asked, "Have you been trained in stick fighting?"

"I have," He called back, projecting so his voice carried in the open space. The others training were spread out, engrossed in drills of their own.

When Thrawn threw him the practice weapon, Eli held it with one hand, carefully testing its weight and balance. Thrawn watched on in approval. Then, he advanced in a dizzying opening combination that should have caught him off guard.

Except, "Ar'alani trained you," Thrawn observed, shifting his weight onto his back foot in order for his next attack to have momentum. "Good."

His strikes were brutal, but Eli managed. He thought back to Thrawn’s exhibition-style match with H’sishi, the Togorian who had run the dojo on Coruscant they had visited with Yullaren. It all felt like someone else’s life, though he still felt some pride at being able to carry on at a much higher intensity.

Thrawn was like a tornado, he led with swift, light strikes that spoke of hidden power just waiting to be put on display. Like controlled chaos, his every move was well thought yet ready to shift and adapt at the slightest hint of Eli’s own strategy. When Thrawn disarmed him, Eli did not relent, rolling away from the next strike instead of yielding. Another of Ar’alani’s signature moves (though Eli could stick fight for a century and he’d still never disarm her), though he knew better than to do what Thrawn anticipated. Thrawn anticipated him to move toward his lost weapon, and had thus stepped directly between them. 

He expected Eli to circle, and Eli gave him that, moving counter clockwise instead of taking the shorter distance toward his discarded weapon. He watched as that intense, predatory gaze widened, catching on to his play.

“I would not try it,” Thrawn warned him.

“I’m faster than you think,” Eli said, turning to the weapons rack against the wall behind him and moving as quickly as he dared.

It didn’t really matter. Thrawn’s legs were longer. The Chiss himself was simply, inhumanly _faster_. Eli knew this. He knew it, and thus he jumped the attack aimed at his knees, let Thrawn’s momentum carry him past him, and darted toward his discarded weapon. He’d just swiveled, crouching to pick up his weapon when Thrawn caught up, lunging to make a controlled strike that ended just before Eli’s throat.

“I yield,” He said, swallowing hard. “ Thrawn nodded, stepped back, weapon loose at his side. He waited until Eli had righted his stance and gave him a nod to insinuate he’d like to continue.

Thrawn inclined his head and they returned to the middle of their designated space. This match was less of a spar and more of a test of footwork, the evaluation of an instructor on another’s student. “How long has Admiral Ar’alani been teaching you?”

Eli countered another combo, left, right, right, overhead strike - he parried that one and pressed close, their weapons locked over their heads. He pushed back, sliding the point of impact until he could roll past Thrawn’s right side, whirling around just in time for Thrawn to face him. He led this time, his own strikes too light to be more than practice, and he could feel Thrawn’s pensive frown as he overcompensated. 

“A little more than a year now. I needed the physical therapy.” He launched a heavier strike without warning, landing a glancing blow to Thrawn’s shoulder that had him frowning. “I think she just needed the therapy part and I gave her someone to hit.” 

The next stream of attacks were interrupted by Thrawn, who managed to set Eli off his footing. He tapped almost playfully at Eli’s left boot with his stick, indicating where the error had occurred without words, and Eli corrected it in the next. 

“She has always found exercise akin to stress relief,” Thrawn said. “And this has always been her preferred form of combat.”

“And that’s because it comes as natural to her as breathing,” Eli said, hearing the pauses in his words. His breath came hard, but Thrawn’s chest seemed to rise and fall with sharper, obvious motion as well, so he didn't feel too bad about it. He led off with a strong push, scrambling to launch a quick strike.

Their sticks smacked together, crisp and staccato, and they were off again.

By the time they were finished, Eli had sweat through his shirt and was itching to rinse off. Chiss did not sweat nearly as much as humans did, but he knew now that the human body's way of regulating itself was hardly a weakness. He felt Thrawn's gaze on his back when he stepped into the locker room and divested himself of the article, tossing it into the sorting bin that emptied into a chute of its own. 

It was a quiet affair, both Thrawn and Eli rinsing off and washing up, no time wasted. Once, Eli had fantasized about steamy locker room encounters, but that was long ago. Long before Thrawn, even. Now, older and aware of both logistics and what it was like to walk into one of those intimate encounters unsuspectingly (thank you, Royal Imperial, he thought), he found it repulsive. Thrawn could be - and was, in a lot of ways, Eli thought, biased by time, preference, and emotion - the most attractive man in the galaxy and he still wouldn't have any interest in such a venue. 

But then again, Thrawn would never, Eli knew. The man came across much differently than he was. Others saw him as ruthless instead of tactically astute, chaotic instead of calculating, cold and unapproachable instead of an invaluable teacher. Sure, Thrawn had those darker traits. Eli had seen them. But he was not like anyone else Eli would ever meet. He protected himself, in some ways, and left himself disastrously open in others. 

His mind was simply different.

Eli might not always understand Thrawn, and hell, Thrawn might not always understand Eli back. That was life. They had learned (and would continue to learn) to adapt.

It was after, after they had washed and dressed themselves, emerging from their separate changing stalls, that Eli found that heavy red gaze so intently focused on his face. He felt his stomach swoop at the intensity of it, but remained silent. He'd led them this far, and it was obvious Thrawn now knew - or was letting on, that he knew - this.

It wasn't until they had left the dojo that he spoke. They walked side by side, headed toward the lift car. "You did not misunderstand my intentions."

"I did not," Eli agreed, voice firm and even. 

Thrawn hummed.

Eli looked up to him. "Was that a pensive hmm," He imitated the sound, "Or an aggravated one?"

That blood red gaze slid to meet Eli's own. Thrawn's lips moved. Short of a smile, but not as sinister as a smirk. He said nothing, and his eyes slid back, straight ahead.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Eli said, voice curling in amused disbelief. Thrawn gave him no cues, which in itself was a tell. He was experiencing neither of the emotions that Eli had ascribed to him. He huffed out an aborted laugh. “Fine,” He said, not a hint of malice in his tone. “Be like that.”

He caught Thrawn looking at him as they stepped out of the lift, sneaking glances at the side of his face between blinks, processing something. Thinking. Making a plan, Eli realized. He felt the answering heat in his cheeks, and held Thrawn’s gaze the next time he caught him. 

Oh, Eli realized, pupils dilating.

\----------

Thrawn wanted.

It was not the over-exaggerated feeling he’d both heard and read about in others’ tales of slaked lust. It was not the primal feeling of arousal or even the anticipation of experiencing that arousal that he remembered more vividly than faces or actions from his previous encounters. Attraction and arousal were there, those simmering, slow-burning feelings that had begun to heat like coals in a fledgling fire, but they were not at the forefront of his mind. 

His mind was racing. Eli had read him in a way he himself had not. Had anticipated and catered to needs he had not realized he had - had provided a sense of balance for the mind and body that was optimal for reorienting his heavy-weighing thoughts. This was not mere anticipation. This was an exercise in understanding and proficiency. It had been a subtle plan.

And it had worked spectacularly.

It was more than that. He wasn’t just thinking about how he’d walked into a trap designed for his benefit, arranged by the man he’d trained to understand both allies and enemies alike. He was thinking about the way Eli defended the Sky-walkers and supported their warriors and understood the cost of war. The way he ran numbers or found patterns in data without conscious thought, dividing troops and dissecting supply lines, taking a war they had little business fighting and breaking it down into ways they could make a difference with their depleted forces. 

The doors to Eli’s quarters closed behind them with a hydraulic hiss. The lights were dimmed to night-standard, and they both blinked to adjust to the change, though Eli moved forward through the space with the sort of confidence one had in a space that was their own. Thrawn followed, footsteps careful and measured.

He watched the way Eli’s tunic shifted over more pronounced back muscles when he dipped and set down his own workout bag. It had distracted him earlier. Thrawn had never evaluated the younger man under the lens of attraction in their time in the Empire, never allowed himself to consider that particular possibility. And it had always been a possibility. It was a natural evolution. Loyalty was a pillar of any relationship with a subordinate. That loyalty bred devotion. And that devotion, demonstrated by both parties...

Thrawn had recognized talent in Eli, had helped him to exercise and nurture it. Now he was left with someone he knew intimately in some ways and had only just met in so many others. There were scores of information to uncover.

Eli turned to look at him, eyes blown dark and wide in similar anticipation. He tilted his head in a sort of question, his eyes searching Thrawn’s in the near total darkness. He moved, and for a second Thrawn thought Eli was reaching up to touch his face.

Instead, he took the duffel, and set it gently outside the closet beside his own. He was very nearly disappointed, but the gentle brush of his fingers against Thrawn’s tunic felt like they had scorched him. The anticipation, the tension was building. It was like standing on the precipice of the unknown, and Thrawn wanted to lean into it, wanted to discover what awaited them.

When Eli next stood before him, he again reached out his hand. This time he tapped the panel next to Thrawn’s shoulder on the wall, setting the lock and sealing the door just behind Thrawn’s back with a tap of his fingers. Then, he took another step, this one very much encroaching on Thrawn’s personal space. His eyes didn’t leave Thrawn’s and Thrawn found himself nearly entranced by the intense concentration on his face, dipping his chin to better maintain that very intimate form of contact.

Eli licked his lips and shifted his weight to strain upward, navigating the height difference between them. Then, they were kissing.

It was a variety of sensation. He felt the heat of Eli’s chest against his own, felt the wet slide between their lips as Eli pressed his tongue into Thrawn’s mouth. He felt the heat that pooled low in his belly when he allowed himself to be backed against the door, his hands acting of their own accord: sliding firmly down Eli’s arms from shoulder to elbow, then taking him by the hips and pulling them properly together.

Eli groaned into it, opening those dark eyes to see Thrawn’s nearly closed but still studying him. He shuddered and Thrawn grinned like a predator into the press of their lips. He tilted his head and broke away.

“You like that I am watching you,” He commented.

“Yeah,” Eli agreed. “Being the subject of your focus is-” He gasped when Thrawn dipped his head and set his lips to the line of his jaw, not kissing so much as dragging his nose and lips against the delicate flesh until Eli arched and Thrawn’s lips latched briefly over the shell of his ear. 

“And this.”

“All of it,” He replied, breathlessly.

“You have no more qualms?”

“Never-” He made an aborted sound, fisting a hand in Thrawn’s hair - and that had never been something someone had dared to try with him, but Thrawn _liked_ it - to pull him back, relaxing his grip until his hand had settled at the base of his crown and was pushing him into another, more urgent kiss. “I never had any qualms, I just-”

He let their foreheads touch and nodded. “It was unnecessary,” Thrawn said. The truth had only solidified his resolve to uncover the depths of what lay between them, had made it more urgent and prominent. It still surprised him at times, the fathomless respect that Eli had for him. “But I understand.”

“Good,” Eli said, and stepped back. He reached for Thrawn’s sash, fingers deftly undoing the buckle before reaching for the belt that sat high on his waist. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy my first ever attempt at Thranto smut.
> 
> That's it, that's the chapter.
> 
> If you aren't a fan of smut, feel free to drop me a comment. There's a little exchange you might be interested in that isn't related to the more physical aspects.

Thrawn’s tunic hit the floor and suddenly he was there, in Eli's personal space, with a bruising kiss that reminded Eli of a summer storm, that electric anticipation before a desert rain. He hadn't thought things out further than that first kiss, had no plans to goad Thrawn into anything more than whatever he was willing to give.

He looked at Eli as if determining how he was going to take his prey apart. Eli wanted to know what that felt like, if those rare times he had allowed himself to consider were close to the mark at all. Would Thrawn drive him over the edge with brutal efficiency, or would he be slow and methodical, systematically driving him to the brink so completely that he'd feel like he was going insane? 

Thrawn discarded Eli's sash and belt in a quick, practiced motion that shouldn't have impacted Eli as much as it did. It was the way the articles hit the floor as if Thrawn did not have the time to focus on setting them aside carefully, his focus so intent that order had little no place by comparison.

"Eli," He murmured, drawing Eli's gaze from the discarded belt. Looking into Thrawn's eyes was like drowning, and Eli welcomed it. 

This kiss was not the same as the last. It was achingly tender and slow, and when it ended, Eli blinked his eyes open, to find Thrawn's own eyes had closed. Perhaps another would have found power in this, in knowing that one of the most intelligent and powerful beings in the galaxy was coming undone by his own influence. Eli did not.

He leaned down to unseal Eli's own tunic, to push it from his shoulders. Thrawn pulled back, collecting their discarded articles. He took care in securing them in the closet where they would not wrinkle awkwardly.

"I love you," Eli said to Thrawn's back. It might have been impulsive to say it so suddenly, or not to say it to his face, but Eli knew the truth of it with unparalleled certainty. He had known it for some time now, so when the words had found their way to his lips he refused to hold them back.

Not anymore. Not in this.

Thrawn regarded him pensively and Eli flushed. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten so sentimental. Thrawn wasn't a terribly emotional creature, and Eli knew this-

His hand slid up Eli’s neck and cupped his jaw, the touch startlingly gentle for a man strong enough to easily crush his windpipe. He swallowed, the sound slight but audible - an indication that Eli's words had impacted him, that he too felt something in this moment. 

Love was not valued among the Chiss. Family structures were focused on prestige and advancement, not mundane feelings of affection or belonging. Such bonds, partnerships, and marriages existed, but those reasons were private and understated.

"You honor me," Thrawn replied, holding his gaze.

It was a very Chiss response to a very human sentiment. 

“As I,” He continued, and Eli’s breath caught as recognized the words, “Shall honor you.”

To a human, love was a multifaceted word that meant trust, loyalty, passion, devotion and a host of others. It was associated with belonging to a unit that was or was not blood related. To a Chiss, honor was like lifeblood or vitality, it was a measure of their worth, the code by which they held themselves. The words were formal for a reason. They were _the_ words. The ones Chiss used to declare intent, to lay claim.

Thrawn would never confess his love to Eli, not in as many words, and Eli didn’t really want him to. Eli wanted him as he was, infuriatingly omnipotent, reclusive and stoic, frustrating and smug beyond measure... And yet the strongest, most intelligent, loyal and devoted being he would ever have the privilege to know.

He led Eli by the wrist, turning him to face Thrawn as he sat on the edge of the bed, legs splayed casually wide to allow Eli to stand in between. At this angle, their heights were nearly reversed. Thrawn tipped his head back slightly to look Eli in the eye. And that gaze was as unguarded as Eli had ever seen. He did not doubt Thrawn’s control. He was allowing this. This was what he wanted.

Just the thought of it made his head spin. His forearms came to rest on Thrawn's shoulders and he leaned into him, their noses brushing as Eli sank into another kiss.

This was addictive, not the act of kissing but the intimacy of the thing, the way Thrawn pulled him closer, hands snaking beneath his undershirt, heat-seeking against his back in retribution for the urgent pace Eli set. All Eli could see was red, the heated glow of hungry, half-lidded eyes, and the indigo-violet shade that glow stained his prominent cheeks. He felt like he was being consumed by Thrawn, and he was still dressed, and he loved it.

Without the high collar of their uniform tunics, it was easier to trail off, down to Thrawn’s practically chiseled jawline, nudging his head to the side before continuing lower with playful, biting kisses against Thrawn’s throat. He’d found the place just below and behind Thrawn’s right ear, sucking an exploratory mark just shy of bruising that made him snarl.

There was a limit to how much control Thrawn was willing to give, and that limit was rapidly approaching.

Eli realized this, so he bit lower, near the neckline of Thrawn’s undershirt where any mark he might make in his carelessness would be concealed by the high collar. As he had to Thrawn earlier, Thrawn firmly tugged him back by the hair, his perfectly maintained fingernails scratching Eli’s scalp pleasantly. Eli would have to remember to incorporate that next time.

Though the thought left him when Thrawn’s fingers snuck beneath the hem of his shirt. He tugged it upward, revealing Eli’s chest. Eli stepped back, ducking out of it.

Stars, Thrawn was an attractive man, Eli thought, watching the Chiss watch him in the near darkness. He was broader, taller, just generally bigger than Eli was, but not so muscular that it was off-putting. He was powerful and sleek, a being bred for war and conquest.

He gave Thrawn a coy smile, tilting his head to the side, looking pointedly at the tight-fitting black undershirt that covered his chest still. Said nothing. Perhaps with another he would have made the cliched statement about one or both of them being overdressed, but Eli wasn’t nervous about this. He felt love and lust twisting together in heady anticipation. 

Then Thrawn grinned at him, and he knew the time for anticipation was over.

\----------

Thrawn pressed Eli into the center of the bed, the both of them sideways upon it: Eli on his back and Thrawn straddling his thighs. Eli blinked at him, eyes wide and enthralled, his body swathed in heat. It pooled in his cheeks and neck, the glow a faded gradient down his chest. It was warm here, too, beneath Thrawn. He could feel the heat where their bodies touched, where his thighs bracketed Eli’s, could see the subtle glow through Eli’s trousers...

He couldn’t help but feel smug. This was a different kind of domination, a different field of battle with its own unique tactics. He swatted those smaller, darker hands away and tugged his shirt over his head on his own. 

Eli took in the sight of him greedily. He licked his lips, sucked the lower one into his mouth. It was a subconscious reaction, much like the way his thighs clenched beneath Thrawn. Yes, Eli had always been so willing to follow Thrawn, to interpret and follow his lead, would give him this power over him. He smirked and watched the sharp rise and fall of Eli’s chest and rolled his hips forward.

Fingers scrabbling at the bed covers, Eli whined at the slow, prolonged, telegraphed thrust. Thrawn leaned over him, their erections pressing teasingly - purposely - against each one another through their uniforms, and Eli swore. He bucked against Thrawn, and Thrawn brought himself to bear against him, laying flush from chest to waist. He did not waste time with teasing bites and licks to Eli’s neck as Eli had done to him. Instead he propped himself up on his forearms, framing Eli’s head as he set a rhythm - a slow rocking motion that kept them pressed together while they kissed.

“Please,” Eli gasped against him, hands wrapping around Thrawn’s back, feeling the coiled muscle groups beneath his fingers, sliding up to his shoulders as his back arched beneath Thrawn.

Yes, this was intoxicating. Thrawn found himself very much enjoying the way Eli looked, adrift in his pleasure, eyes so dark they were almost black. He wanted to see Eli undone, wanted to see the way he looked at the apex of his pleasure, to know if he would close his eyes or meet Thrawn’s head on when he climaxed.

“Tell me,” Thrawn demanded of him, only realizing as he spoke the way his breath came faster, more urgently. Focusing on Eli made it easier to deny his own mounting pleasure, the primal sensations that grew more and more difficult to ignore with every thrust.

But Eli didn’t want him to ignore it, grabbing at Thrawn’s hips, fingers splayed down toward his glutes and pulled them together with a strength Thrawn could not deny. Eli’s mouth fell open and his eyes closed, relishing that friction.

Thrawn hadn’t realized he’d sworn aloud until Eli chuckled breathlessly, his forehead tucked against Thrawn’s shoulder.

“Let me touch you,” Eli panted. “I want to.”

“How?” Thrawn questioned, lips ghosting against the shell of his ear. He felt Eli shudder at the echo of command in his tone. It sent a dark thrill through him.

“However you want. Hands,” He said, reminding Thrawn exactly where his were placed, “Mouth. Anything.” He leaned back against the bed, bearing his throat to Thrawn as he considered. “Like this,” He decided, “But nothing between us.” 

Thrawn licked up the column of his neck, tasting skin and sweat. The taste was salty and foreign but not unpleasant. Human skin was not so unlike his own, despite its varying colorations.

Some humans had hair everywhere. Others had some, or even none whatsoever. Eli had never had the coarse facial hair other imperials had. Where Chiss hair was thick and sleek, the hair on Eli’s head - as he’d recently learned- was downy and soft, fine but thick. He had hair on his arms and legs that was golden brown, lighter than his skin, and unobtrusive. Eli’s chest was devoid of hair, but it picked up near his navel, a strange indent humans had through the birthing process that Chiss certainly didn’t, and trailed down beneath the cut of his trousers.

He nodded and removed himself from atop the human, stepping back to give him space to rise as well. Eli divested himself of his pants and undergarments quickly.

It wasn't as if they had never seen each other naked before. They had been roommates, soldiers, forced into close quarters… a myriad positions where modesty was quickly stripped away. But it was one thing to see a naked body and another to see that body in the throes of pleasure, pleasure that he had drawn out. Seeing the way Eli's sex jutted out proudly where the trail of hair beneath his navel ended may as well have been the first time he had seen Eli without clothes at all.

He fisted his length in his hand and Eli made a low sound, his erection bobbing, pearlescent precum gleaming at the tip. Eli was watching him intently, eyes dragging a slow path up from his groin, the weight of it heavier than Thrawn had been expecting.

Since he had kissed Eli that first time, he had known this would be different. It would not be the animal process of release. When he moved his hand away, Eli didn’t reach out to stoke him. One of his hands gentled over the curve of Thrawn’s bare hip.

He tilted Eli’s chin up with his hand, eyebrows rising when the younger man finally met his eyes. Eli flushed magnificently, his cheeks bright with it in the infrared spectrum. The human didn’t waver, and when Thrawn’s thumb swiped at his mouth, he nipped at it in passing, teeth gently worrying the pad of the digit.

“Shall we?” Thrawn asked, already pushing Eli back toward the bed. Eli swallowed, cock bobbing again, drawing Thrawn’s gaze down and back again.

“I suppose,” Came the reedy drawl, but Eli laid back and against the pillows this time, stroking himself with intent once, twice, and then Thrawn’s hand covered his own and he immediately pulled back. “Wait-” He said, gasping. “You do that and I’m not gonna-” Thrawn did it again, earning a keening, gasp of “Thrawn!”

Thrawn smirked, but relented. “Your drawl is more apparent now,” He commented instead.

“Do you mind it?”

“On the contrary,” He said, and Eli grinned, pleased.

“Well, c’mon then,” Eli drawled, this time in Basic, before adding pointedly, “I don’t know about you,” He said ruefully, “But I’ve waited years for this.”

“Of course,” Thrawn answered, as though it were any other mundane item on the agenda, not potentially mind-blowing sex, though he moved too quickly to keep up the charade. 

Returning to his place atop Eli, he rutted against him tentatively, relishing the smooth glide and the heat but most especially the way Eli ground up against him, the tiny _ohh_ that escaped him. “Fuck,” Eli swore, voice hitching on the way the curse translated into Thrawn’s native tongue. His fingers dug into Thrawn’s hips, seeking more friction.

This was good. He would come from this, and it would take no real effort at all. That wasn’t what he wanted, though. He wanted Eli. Finding out what that meant, really knowing, meant not doing it quite like this. 

Eli watched him, dark eyes sharper, understanding. “Yeah?”

Thrawn nodded. “Do it,” He hissed, and let Eli roll him.

Those warm hands braced themselves on Thrawn’s chest, and he found himself admiring the contrast between deep brown and pale cerulean right up until Eli thrust against him. His focus shifted to the weight of the body rocking against him, to the way Eli breathed through his mouth, lips parted and eyes focused on him. 

What did he see? Thrawn wondered, but the thought was brief, lost to mounting pleasure. He got his hands on Eli's ass, squeezing and pulling him into a deeper thrust that had him cursing again, hips stuttering.

For himself, sex had mostly been an exploratory, information gathering venture. Release tended to clear the mind, sated the body enough to rest and recover. He had always known his partners, and the interactions had been mutual, but not like this. Those had still been manual, pleasurable feelings based on stimulation - especially penetration. Pleasure was selfishly taken by consenting parties.

Right now, he didn't care about his own release. He wanted to see what Eli looked like when he fell apart and Eli was looking at him like he wanted the same. He draped himself over Thrawn to kiss him, erections trapped between their bellies as their lips touched and Thrawn's teeth pulled at his lower lip.

Eli pushed himself up to look down between them, the hard planes of Thrawn's chest and abdomen, the head of his cock leaking steadily. He saw what Eli was thinking and acted first, swiping the smear of precum from his skin and using it for its biological imperative. He produced more natural lubrication than Eli. It was another biological discrepancy, but an advantageous one. His eyes narrowed on Eli's face as he tightened his grip around them both, watching with keen interest as he rolled his hips into Thrawn's grip, his shorter, thicker length hot against Thrawn's, sliding easily. His eyelashes fluttered enticingly against his cheeks, a reaction to this visceral moment between them.

They rocked together. It did not have the urgency that other couplings had. Eli took his time, which surprised Thrawn. He had expected the sensation to be overwhelming - and it was, but Thrawn was capable of restraint, of not giving himself over to his body’s desires.

“What?” Eli murmured, hips continuing that fluid pace, though he hissed when Thrawn stroked them both lightly.

Thrawn considered him. “This is what you wanted?”

Eli reared back, no longer looming over him. He still thrust into Thrawn’s grip, and the change in angle made Thrawn’s breath catch. He eyed Thrawn intently. “ _You_ are what I wanted.” He said, and shook his head, a little rueful. “I’m just trying not to shoot off like a fool.”

“You would hardly be a fool,” Thrawn promised him. “This is-” He broke off, shuddering, Eli’s hand overlapping his around their cocks.

“Let me,” He offered.

Thrawn removed his hand. Eli applied a different kind of pressure. This wasn’t teasing. His hand was noticeably warmer on Thrawn’s cooler skin, stroking them together instead of rutting down against him. Eli’s eyes burned - this was impacting him, Thrawn could see it - and he bit his lip as he watched Thrawn.

“Faster?” He asked him.

“Yes,” Thrawn said so quickly his own response might have surprised him, had this been any other situation with any other person.

He wasn’t prepared for the swift, twisting strokes Eli bestowed upon them, nor how good it felt. He hadn’t even realized his eyes had fallen shut until Eli moaned brokenly and he realized he was rocking up into his grip, the sensitive underside of Eli’s cock pulsing against his.

“I’m not going to last,” Eli gasped. “I’m so-”

“Don’t apologize,” Thrawn growled at him, back arching. He needed more of this, that was what had him eclipsing Eli’s hand as he had earlier, stroking them in tandem. “I want-” He began, but was interrupted when Eli kissed him. 

It was sloppy and passion-drunk and Thrawn had never understood why others enjoyed such a messy exchange. Until now. He understood now. He breathed heavily into it, eyes half lidded, watching his expression, the way sweat shone at his temples. His eyes were closed but Thrawn had caught a glimpse of them, wide and glassy. Their next stroke squeezed just right, Thrawn’s cock catching the ridge of Eli’s head.

“Eli,” He exhaled sharply, trapped between the man and his feelings, unable to hold back. 

Compelled, Eli’s eyes snapped open and he was coming against Thrawn’s cock and their hands. Thrawn didn’t have time to focus on the reasoning behind Eli’s climax before he was dragged into it with him, reduced to sensation and the chemical cocktail of orgasm. When they came back to themselves, pleasure receding, bodies lax with the rush of dopamine, Eli rolled off of him, but not to lay down. He stumbled slightly, clumsy but satiated, drawing Thrawn’s attention.

“Not a word,” He said, flushing.

“Note that I have yet to move,” Thrawn replied. “That was,” He considered, decided he did not have an apt word to describe it, and thus, did not go on.

“Yeah,” Eli said over the sound of water in the fresher. He lingered in the doorway, openly admiring Thrawn, without the haze of lust. “Agreed.”

Thrawn was not a young man, and it had been an admittedly long time since he had chosen to partake in sexual relations. But when Eli handed him a wet towel to clean their combined pleasure from his chest and stomach, then stalked nakedly across the room to retrieve both their questises - a vision of lean confidence, openly content in their copulation - Thrawn considered the logistics. Eli looked up from his quick scan of whatever he had missed while they’d been occupied, tilted his head and smiled when he caught Thrawn staring.

Perhaps he could get used to this, Thrawn thought, unused to the fledgling buoyancy of hopefulness.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the plot for now, though I'm happy last chapter went over well!

Ezra was good at sneaking. Likewise, he was good at avoiding detection and making himself seem unimportant in plain sight. Of course it worked better with people who either weren't paying attention to him or didn't want to pay attention to him in the first place. That accounted for a lot of the ship's crew, though everyone was polite enough when he talked to them. 

He'd gotten similarly good at timing his trips to the mess hall, at least when it was within his own power, not that of someone who was essentially tasked with babysitting him. He never followed the young girl, the no-longer-a-navigator that Thrawn insisted he not seek out. Instead, he observed her. Not with his eyes, because she always seemed to know when he was physically looking at her. He didn't want to scare her away. Instead, he reached out with the Force in hopes that it would guide him.

It took a lot of patience, but he'd rather not enrage Thrawn, even if Thrawn was wrong. Which he was. In fact, once he’d had a few days of not seeing Thrawn - whatever _that_ was about - to cool off, it dawned on him that this was the first time Thrawn had completely dismissed his Jedi instinct out of hand. There was more to it than met the eye, Ezra figured.

Talking to Thrawn about it was out, though had tried bringing it up twice since their initial discussion with no success. The Chiss knew how to flip a conversation so subtly even Ezra, for all his stubbornness, couldn't stay on task. It was a shame, too, because discussing things with Thrawn (when he was in the mood for a conversation, that is) was actually not… the worst thing? He actually gave decent advice about things. Not that Ezra had ever particularly asked, but Thrawn seemed to offer feedback at regular intervals without needing to be prompted.

And that left him here, casually meditating in the mess hall under the guise of taking his time to sip his caf, waiting for the Force to show him a sign. 

The girl showed up too early for him to catch her for first meal. It was usually during the late meal that he saw her the most. She tended to sit alone, or at least keep to herself. Some of the other girls talked to her but she stayed quiet and did a lot of observing.

Her presence was much different than any of them. There were others who were losing or had "lost" their Sight, their Force abilities, but Un'hee did not feel like them. She felt curious and different. Half-hidden and reclusive. Almost always a little afraid.

She was very sensitive, he could tell. Not precognizant like the active navigators, but generally in tune and receptive to the universe around her. She might not know when the girl at the end of the table would spill her drink down the front of her shirt, but her instincts were good, and she read the twitches the other girls gave like it was second nature.

And, most of the time, she carried a book with her. One made of actual paper, not flimsi, medium sized and beautifully bound. He was certain that if she were here, Sabine would be jealous of the young girl who buried her nose in the pages as if they held some kind of secret.

For all Ezra knew, she really was scribbling on the pages, given how her hands moved. He couldn’t really make any sense of it. The Chiss script - not that he could write it himself - was full of graceful, arching calligraphy. Maybe she was coloring something? Still, that didn't make sense, either. She only carried one writing utensil. 

The Force remained relatively quiet. It whispered of possibilities and rippled with promise with all the young, gifted children around who unknowingly dipped into it, but it gave vague direction. It didn't say anything to him, didn't speak, but it waited in expectant expectation. The message was patience. 

Thus, Ezra waited. He attended his lessons and learned passable Cheunh and practiced his lightsaber katas in the sparring gym. He sat alone most of the time in the officer's mess, but was kind to anyone who greeted or asked questions of him. The Navigators slowly warmed up to him, clapping excitedly when he showed them how he could levitate things. 

They were good kids, Ezra thought. He could not imagine what it was like to have the Force, then lose the ability to feel it. He could only imagine that it was like knowing he would lose a limb or one of his senses.

Eventually, an opportunity presented itself while they were enroute to an unnamed destination, for a very quiet, already underway mission. The _Steadfast's_ crew was tense, preoccupied with the upcoming action, Ezra could tell. The ship's crew wasn't so different from the sort he'd seen throw themselves in with rebel cells. There were hardened soldiers, but there were others who knew little about militaries or organized warfare and simply wanted to fight for the greater good.

The mess hall was much quieter with everyone anticipating battle, or, at the very least, a daring escape. The Navigators asked many questions of their caretakers about the ship's shields and weapons. He could see from the adults' faces that this was not uncommon. Knowledge did not erase fear, but understanding what was happening helped.

He was in his usual seat this evening, a place near both the meal line and the exit, sitting adjacent to an officer who said nothing as they ate their meal and caught up on their communications. The sound of indistinguishable voices was quiet compared to the clattering bustle of the kitchen behind him as they cleaned and prepped for the following morning. There weren’t many people around.

Thrawn was gone more often than not, too. Ezra had noticed that he no longer slept in the same suite, though he didn't question it like Faro tended to. He called on Ezra rarely, no doubt too busy as the _Steadfast's_ captain to have him providing a distraction on the bridge. 

That was fine. Ezra still wasn't sure he wanted to fight in their civil war. He had come to see that Thrawn's actions, all of them, were in defense of his people. Ezra couldn't solve their problems, couldn't even begin to mediate them like his master had suggested the Jedi before the Clone War once did. 

That wasn’t his fight. He still had nightmares - his own, not stolen memories - of the creatures Thrawn called Grysks and their Scratchlings. The ones Admiral Ar'alani had told him were their true enemy. They were still out there, Ezra knew. And knew that they were coming for the Chiss with a kind of certainty he couldn’t explain.

When the former Navigator had departed the way she came and Ezra had no more answers than he had before, he waited long enough to not cross paths with her before he rose from his secluded corner table. He nodded politely to the officer who looked up at him but didn’t speak, then waved at the cook who remembered he liked sweet rolls and always saved him one if he came late to the mid-day meal. 

He passed the rows of empty tables on his way to the far door that would take him back to his quarters the fastest. If he remembered correctly, Faro had a late shift, which meant he might actually have time for a peaceful meditation without interruption. He shook his head. He couldn’t believe he actually looked forward to it. 

When he had nearly crossed the center of the mess, he felt a sudden slap, like a tug in his mind, his senses immediately snapping into sharper focus and the hairs on the back of his neck standing in sudden, absolute anticipation. This was it, realized. _This_ was the feeling he’d been waiting for. But why now? What was he supposed to be noticing?

He looked right, toward the door near where he sat, then the back of the mess, toward the kitchens. Nothing. He took a deep breath, reaching out with his mind, uncaring that he might look like a clueless idiot, silently coaxing the Force, pushing at his connection with the universe around him…

And felt something from far away. A tiny pulse, like a planted seed or an echo. 

Turning his head, he caught a glimpse of something that lay forgotten on one of the chairs at a nearby table: A leatherbound book, medium sized, made with true paper.

\----------

Today was not Un’hee’s day. She had slept little, suffering a nightmare about Scratchlings that followed the human Jedi and Thrawn through a spaceport. Thrawn had confirmed her recollection, his eyes somber but understanding when he’d come in from his late shift on the bridge to spend the night with Eli. She had only fallen asleep just before the ship’s natural dawn, her head pillowed on Eli’s thigh while they quietly discussed strategy, and woken not more than two hours later to testing of the emergency klaxons.

And then, during her lessons, the younger Navigators kept trying to touch her. They thought it was funny, because she said it bothered her. Normally, it would be fine, but because she had slept so little and had spent the night Eli’s quarters instead of her own bunk, she hadn’t thought to bring her gloves with her.

It was all little things, but enough of them to be truly aggravating. 

So when she had left her journal behind, it was just one more thing to add to the list of annoyances that had befallen her today. She exhaled, shoving her feet back into her boots, knotting them quickly before trudging glumly back to the mess hall. It was just as she’d let herself hope that no one would find it that she realized what had happened.

She looked up to see the Jedi coming down the hall and froze.

He must have seen the look of horror on her face, because his expression fell from something neutral to almost sad. “Hi,” He said, his accent strange.

He spoke the human language in her dreams though, so that was how she answered him. “Hello,” She answered meekly, feeling as though her mouth was stuffed full of the strange sounds the vowels and consonants made.

“My name’s Ezra,” He introduced himself. He tried to make himself look less intimidating. She tried to separate her dreams - his memories - from this person she had not truly met. “You speak Basic?” He asked.

She frowned at him. “I hear it sometimes,” She said in that language.

“In your dreams, right?” He asked, still speaking in Cheunh, “I have them too, sometimes. Sometimes you’re-”

“I do not want to know,” She interrupted. “You found my journal.”

He exhaled slowly, crouching down so he wasn’t looming over her. Her journal was tucked beneath his arm and she eyed it desperately. He continued speaking, his words chosen carefully. “I hope yours aren’t as scary as mine are,” He said gently. “Whatever you’ve-”

“Please,” She said, voice pinched. _“Don’t.”_

The human flinched. “I just want to help,” He said. “I know it sounds strange, but I had a feeling and I-”

“I don’t care,” Un’hee whispered, almost too softly to be heard. “Give me back my journal.”

“What do you write about?” He asked, his dark blue eyes reminding her of a clear winter night’s sky. He had yet to offer her property back to her.

She glared at him. “I don’t write,” She admitted defensively, reaching toward her journal as he reluctantly held it out. If he hadn’t looked in it, that was his loss. She wasn’t sticking around to discuss it with him. “I draw.”

Intending to yank it from his grip, she grabbed it with both hands. Their fingers touched. It was more intense than anything she had ever felt, she realized. And like something unseen had glued her fingers to the journal or the Jedi’s hands, she found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull herself back.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was doing so good at keeping up with both this fic and the Thrantovember challenge (if only I knew how to write drabbles, not 1k+ words for almost every prompt), and then the new D2 expansion came out and I am stretched very, very thin. I've got 25 written, so expect that next Monday.

Someone was screaming, Ezra realized as he came back to himself. He was on the ground, blinking up at the ceiling but he didn’t remember how that had happened. His mind felt like it was half frozen, his thoughts buried through frost and slurry. He closed his eyes and tried to think.

And then someone was hauling him up off the ground, but his legs were buckling beneath him. He ended up back on the ground, sitting up somewhat, though it felt like his entire body was swaying. He was shaking, he realized. His teeth were chattering. There was something else, too. Something that wasn’t his, and it was rising-

“Bridger,” A voice said, sharp and clipped and serious. He couldn’t place it, but might have been familiar. “Ezra.” There was a pause, and then a hard smack to his face. It was like he’d been trapped in a bubble, and the blow to his cheek had popped it.

He gasped frantically, realizing he couldn’t breathe.

“With me,” Thrawn said to him, voice low and inflectionless, deeply serious. He was focused completely on getting Ezra to follow his example and did not look around. When Ezra tried to, he held Ezra’s chin in those strong fingers, giving him no choice but to remain focused on him and not the situation unfolding around him. “Pay attention,” He rebuked, when Ezra felt his breath begin to grow uneven and gasping again. It took effort, every ounce of his concentration to focus on Thrawn, but eventually, he did. “Good,” The Chiss continued to coach him.

The Jedi hadn’t realized he was squeezing Thrawn’s other hand until Thrawn reached down and carefully uncurled his fingers. “S-s,” He stuttered the syllables, realizing he was still shaking. “Sorry.”

Thrawn did not comment on the apology. He wrapped the fingers of the hand that wasn’t keeping Ezra’s head still around his wrist. “Keep taking deep breaths. Your heart rate is elevated.”

He jerked his head, trying to look around. “But what-”

“Eyes on me,” Thrawn ordered, and Ezra’s subconscious mind latched onto the command.

“Is he alright?” Another voice came from above them. It was female, Ezra thought, but Thrawn didn't let him look.

Thrawn said something Ezra thought wasn't quite an answer, but he had spoken too quickly to translate. Had Thrawn been speaking to him in Basic? Ezra tried to replay the conversation in his mind. He couldn't tell.

"Ezra," Thrawn said. Eyelids fluttering - he hadn't realized they had closed - Ezra did. "Can you stand?"

He thought about it, his eyes rolling back as though he'd been awake for over a week. "Think I might pass out."

"Is that normal?" The older man asked. There was something about his tone..

"It's happened before," He murmured. "Did I have a-"

He wilted backwards and Thrawn caught him by the arm. His head lolled sideways, very nearly hitting the deck plates, but the Chiss had caught him in time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something on the ground.

A book? He focused on it. It lay strewn across the floor, open to what seemed like a random page. The drawing was landscape, two silhouetted figures, one tall and one short, looking up toward the sky with long weapons in hand. On the other page, Grysks looked down at them from what appeared to be space, frothing and displeased that their efforts had been rebuffed.

Ezra opened his mouth, tried to make the words come. To tell Thrawn, to say he had it, he could finally understand, but Thrawn had pulled him up, and his face hit the solid warmth of the Chiss's chest and he lost the fight to stay conscious.

\----------

To say Ar'alani was displeased would be a momentous understatement. 

"You said we could trust him," She snarled, when Mitth’raw’nuruodo had finally come to her. "It _looks_ like he assaulted her."

"It looks that way, yes," Thrawn allowed. "But has anyone checked the recordings from the corridor we found them in?"

The admiral's lips pursed. "Tehke is working on it now." She held the bound journal in her hands, lips pursed. "I will let you know what our investigation uncovers."

"And Bridger?"

"Confinement in the brig. If he will not cooperate, we will sedate him." She looked at him blandly. “I realize that you do not believe he is a threat, but if he reacts this way to any of the other Navigators-”

Thrawn inclined his head, but was frowning the entire time. “I do not believe he will. None of them have reported anything like she has. They have been having sympathetic dreams.”

Ar’alani laced her fingers together. “I am aware of what Un’hee has dreamed,” She snarled. “And I am aware that he has not had these dreams since he has been aboard the _Steadfast_.”

His lips parted, but before he could speak Ar’alani held up her hand. “I wasn’t done,” She said, voice rising in volume. “I am also aware that he has the ability to summon giant beasts that could decimate the remainder our fleet-”

“He summoned them with a radio frequency that does not exist in the Chaos,” Thrawn began measuredly.

“That makes him no less capable of commanding threats that could destroy the remaining shambles of our military without aid."

"I truly do not believe he would do so," He said. "He took issue with the Empire. So far he has found his treatment here satisfactory thus far."

"And now it is suboptimal," Ar'alani chided. "I suppose we shall find out his true intentions soon enough." Thrawn watched her. She crossed her arms. "Tell him to cooperate with our investigation when you go to him."

"I will," He promised. "He should understand the urgency."

"He should," She supposed, "But he did not listen when you told him to stay away from her."

"I was not aware that you knew-"

"This is my ship," She nearly bellowed, as if he were a junior lieutenant and not her first officer. "I know everything that is going on."

He swallowed and remained silent.

"Oh, none of that now." She waved a hand dismissively. It was hardly a secret that he’d found his way into her general’s quarters. It had been inevitable from the first moment they had been reacquainted. "You have nothing to hide. That particular portion of the Command Articles has always been exceedingly asinine, not that it presently matters. Besides, Eli will be lucky not to be exiled when our people piece themselves back together.”

“He will _what_?”

Ar’alani sighed. “I thought he had explained this to you.”

“He has eluded to his place,” Thrawn said. He seemed uncomfortable. “I expected demotion, not exile.”

“I once expected that for you, too,” She pointed out. “Our people have not been kind to either of you, Thrawn.” She motioned for him to sit, getting up from her desk to take the chair beside him. It was a wordless cue that this was not a strictly professional discussion. “We cannot change everything,” She said. “They are not ready to accept a human in their midst. He understands that. He knows what his duty is. And I know he learned that from you.”

“This is different.”

“Hardly so,” She refuted. “You were an excellent example for him as he came into his own. I do not doubt that he has always been honorable,” She said. “But he is a tribute to you, one that the Ascendancy does not deserve.”

Thrawn looked like he wanted to say something, she could tell. Like he wished to argue her point. And yet, he knew better. He knew his limitations, his weak points. She could not coddle him in this. 

“Lasting change does not happen overnight, you know that as well as I.” She dipped her head, let it tilt ever so slightly to the side. “There will be change, but it will be slow and painful.” She looked away. “He knows his mission, and he is willing to see it through regardless of the personal cost.”

“It will be high,” He suspected. “Too high for a person to bear.”

She frowned. “I cannot tell if you are speaking of him or yourself.”

Thrawn’s lips pulled slightly to the left. “Nor can I,” He answered honestly, unwilling to meet her gaze. Though it had been years, she was still very familiar with the way her embittered heart broke for him. “I suppose we will find out.”

\----------

It was well into the latter half of the night cycle before Thrawn returned. Un’hee blinked her dimly glowing eyes open at him, then pointed towards the bedroom. She was wearing gloves on her hands. He had seen them before, several times, actually, but never had he seen her wearing them. She tucked some of her messy hair behind her ear and rolled over to face the wall, breath evening out almost instantly in sleep.

Thrawn resisted the natural urge to turn off the light in the kitchenette and approached the bedroom door. It was not locked like the outside door had been, and light spilled into the main room when he hit the toggle on the doorframe.

Eli was sitting on the bed, back against the wall. Numbers skittered down the projected image between them, though they disappeared when he set the device aside. Thrawn began undoing the belt and buckle of his sash. "How is she?" He asked Eli.

"She should be okay. Medical checked her out. I think she was more frightened than anything, but,” He waited for Thrawn to remove his tunic and sit down. “I’ll talk to her when she’s more alert. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

Thrawn nodded, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I noticed she was wearing gloves,” He said. “I have overheard Tekhe saying something about them in the past.”

“Un’hee is sensitive,” Eli said. “From what she’s told me, she can touch certain things and sense strong emotions or memories tied to them.” He sighed. “That probably sounds ridiculous, but I’ve seen her do it. I think it’s something to do with her Sight, but none of my research has turned up anything like it.”

“I have seen my fair share of impossible-seeming things,” Thrawn replied. “The gloves are a preventative measure?”

“Yes. It’s not ideal, but it works for the most part.” Eli considered, retrieving his discarded questis. He handed the device to Thrawn. “Speaking of Tehke, take a look at what she pulled.”

“He did not take her journal,” Thrawn said, watching as the young Jedi found the book abandoned in the mess.

“No,” Eli agreed, watching the replay again. “He was waiting for an opening, and she gave him one.” Thrawn paused the recording and looked at him. “They take meals at the same time every day.”

“A way to act around my order,” Thrawn said. Then, continuing the feed, “His body language does not appear threatening.”

“No, he looks like he knows how to approach distrustful children.” 

Thrawn shot him a loaded look. “His parents were taken from Lothal when he was around seven years old. He grew up on the streets.”

“Ah,” Said Eli. Together, they watched as Ezra extended the journal to the girl, and then they both went unnaturally still.

“He says he is skilled at connection,” Thrawn offered. “If she is sensitive to touch, and he is able to make subconscious connections-”

“Then that would probably explain this,” He agreed. “So now what?”

The Chiss stroked his jaw. “Now,” He said, “We wait for them to be in a state where they can explain to us what happened.” He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow. “In the meantime, have you heard back from Lieutenant Shibu? They were supposed to report in several hours ago.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience while I finished up the Thrantovember Challenge! I'm happy to report that that's finished and all been posted, so we are back to our weekly-ish updates!

Eli waited for Thrawn’s breaths to even out and stay that way before he slipped from the bed. He dressed quietly before slipping through the half-open hatch to the rest of the suite. Un'hee likewise didn't react to him moving throughout the space, worn out from the day's events. He tucked a comm beside her just in case, the small device already keyed to his personal frequency.

He didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to leave her alone with Thrawn, either. Un'hee trusted him, but she was unsteady. And she knew that Thrawn was, to a degree, invested in Ezra's well-being. He did not want to complicate things for them both, if he could help it. It only validated his present course of action.

Ar'alani was unsurprised to see him, nursing a cup of tea as though it were the finest wine available in the Ascendancy. She waited for him to speak, to arrange his thoughts. He used to find that unnerving, an indicator of how he fell short to Chiss mental prowess, but now he found it grounding. It had taken him a while to heed his own words, to celebrate their differences instead of finding himself inadequate.

"How do you feel about him helping me?"

Ar'alani grunted, waving one elegant hand. She wasn’t thrilled about it, but, "I had assumed that was the plan already."

"Humor me," Eli said. "Please."

She did not sigh. Her breath left her in a slow, controlled movement. Then, "What has Thrawn said about it?" 

He shrugged. "He counseled patience. That Ezra's affinity for connection and Un'hee's sensitivity to everything around her made this a perfect storm."

"And you believe him?"

"I do," He began slowly, "But I also saw the recording."

"As did I. He has not actively sought her out before," She considered. "He waited until he had a compelling reason."

"I think he cares about what Thrawn thinks of him," Said Eli. "Thrawn told him not to seek her out. Technically, he could argue that he planned to return her journal to the navigators' section and had run into her on accident."

Ar'alani folded her hands beneath her chin. "What would you have him do?" She asked. Eli thought she looked quite exhausted by recent events. He could relate. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and have Thrawn's perpetually freezing knees pressed against his legs. "I assume you have a task for him."

Eli picked up the journal on Ar'alani's desk. Un'hee had refused to touch it since she’d woke outside the refectory. He carefully flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. 

"This," He said.

"A data crystal?"

"Un'hee said that it looked like a box at first. But it seemed to be used to communicate and hold knowledge, which could be accessed by-"

Ar'alani did not look impressed. "You wish to put the control of invaluable knowledge into the boy's hands?"

"Not especially," He admitted, "But, Thrawn reported that the Empire targeted their own Sky-walkers after the Clone Wars, recruiting children to become Inquisitors and hunt the rest, killing them if they refused to join. I think he'd be more willing to help us protect our vulnerable children from a similar fate than he would be to help us fight amongst ourselves."

"Thrawn trusts the boy."

"I know," Eli said. "And I think he trusts Thrawn as well."

"Perhaps," She mused. "I suggest you confirm that. Go alone, lest he feel we are trying to coerce him."

\----------

The brig was weirdly comfortable. He knew he was their prisoner, but the bed bolted to the wall was more comfortable than standard racks. He also knew that the posted guards were wary and afraid, suddenly aware that he was not one of their navigators, but something foreign, a threat. 

He closed his eyes. Since he woke hours earlier, he had spent the majority of his time in the deepest meditation he could. Thrawn had come to see him, but he wasn't ready yet. He'd seen a path. He'd felt the brush of Un'hee's mind against his own. 

It had marked them. He could still feel it, foreign and strange and yet so achingly familiar. He chose to meditate because he didn't know what else to do. He needed time to decide what the Force was telling him, what it had led him to. He remembered Thrawn talking him through the effects of his vision, of the entire ordeal. He remembered, in that strange, dream-like way, how he'd woke during a medi-scan with Thrawn standing over him. His arms had been crossed, the arches of his forehead seeming more pronounced. He'd been worried for Ezra. Worried-angry, more like it. It should have made him uncomfortable.

It didn't. Ezra had been vulnerable and Thrawn had, somehow (very, _very_ unexpectedly, though really now that he thought about it, he shouldn't have been surprised), made him feel safe. Protected. He hadn't felt that way since-

Well, he just hadn't expected to feel that way again.

The door at the row of confinement units opened and Ezra heard the footsteps of someone approaching. They weren't Chiss. First, the footsteps were too close together, and second Ezra could feel them. They were human, and considering he had pretty restricted visitation, that meant that it was the general. Eli.

Ezra had never really seen him up close before, except for that time in the mess hall right after they had arrived. He had thought the other human would have been around more, and Ezra had heard plenty about him from the Navigators and Faro, but the general never came around. He leaned back against the wall of the small unit, closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind.

"Thrawn said you wouldn't talk to him when he came to see you," The man said to Ezra, the words even but not pleasant. "Will you talk to me?"

The Jedi inhaled, feeling the weight of curiosity and worry, of wariness and simmering anger in the man who now faced his cell. "Do I have to?"

"You don't have to talk, no," He said, "But you will listen to what I have to say." The door to his cell unlocked and opened with a wave of Eli's hand.

It wasn't until they were out of the holding area that Ezra realized they weren't being followed by anyone. They had passed five very concerned looking guards on their way out, all of them blooming with tiny pitter-patters of fear. Chiss felt like rain in the Force, little ripples, echoes of feeling. 

Eli didn't walk him to an office or worse, to Admiral Ar'alani. He took Ezra to the hangar, waving off anyone who stopped to straighten to proper attention, walking in a wide arc around all the docked shuttles and fighters. The transport they had taken to get here - Faro's transport - was sitting not far from where they had left it. 

"Current events notwithstanding," General Eli said, his gaze cast out upon the giant shield that separated them from the vacuum of space, "Things have been alright for you here, yeah?" He spoke in Basic, his drawl even more pronounced than Ezra's mild Outer Rim twang. Wild Space through and through, just like Thrawn had said.

Ezra shrugged. "Yeah," He said. "They've been okay, I guess."

"Thrawn said you haven't been exposed to many Force sensitives."

"I thought it was _Sight_ ," Ezra zinged back. 

Eli gave an abrupt incline of his head, lips twitching into a thin line. "Does it feel the same to you?"

"Yes and no," The Jedi said defensively. "Why?"

"There are a lot of different names for the same things. Ashla and the Bogan, Sight, the Force-"

"And your point is?" The younger man asked, arms crossed over his chest. He looked generally unimpressed. 

Eli didn't seem to mind. "My point is that you're no so different from them, aside from you being human and them being Chiss, if you get my drift."

Ezra shrugged. "Yeah, I guess," He said again, looking away. "I'm way more in tune with things than they are."

"They," Eli explained, "Are trained to navigate ships, hence the titles given to them."

"How original," Ezra scoffed.

Eli gave him a half smile and didn't comment either way. He turned toward the blackness of space, looking out across the expanse. "Un'hee will be alright," He said.

He flinched, but the General didn’t comment on it, or even appear to be looking his way. And yet, Ezra had the strangest feeling Eli knew just how he’d reacted. Like that extra sense Thrawn had, almost. "That-that's good," He replied.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

A shrug. Ezra looked at him. "I don't know," He said. "I tried to give her journal back - she’d left it in the mess - and our hands touched. I couldn't pull away."

"She was holding on to you?" Eli mused doubtfully.

"No." The kid wrung his hands, voice rising with his confusing, half worked out thoughts. "It wasn't that. It's-" He sighed. "My body wouldn't move."

The general frowned. "Like paralysis?"

"Like the Force," He pushed, as if that much should be obvious. 

"I'll take your word for it."

"Will you?" Ezra's eyes narrowed. "Because you guys were pretty quick to lock me up.” His deep blue eyes flashed. “What do you want from me?"

"I think the better question is what you want from us," Eli told him, turning away from the barricade. "Come on."

This time the walk was shorter. Eli took him to a staircase tucked into the corner. "Where are we going?"

Eli didn't answer him, but Ezra still followed dutifully behind. At the top of the staircase was a grated deck, a sort of overlook platform that gave an excellent view of the hangar in its entirety. There were pillars that kept it secure, wide metal beams that went from the plates beneath Ezra's feet up to the ceiling a hundred feet up. On each beam was a shield generator.

"What are these for?" He asked, feeling strangely, inexplicably uncomfortable.

"Protection."

Ezra scoffed. "Yeah, obviously."

"Un'hee doesn't like being up here," Eli said quietly, leaning against the railing.

"Why?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"She-" Ezra sighed, defensive. "I haven't dreamt about it, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not," Said Eli. "She tells me it's too loud here. That-"

"Wait." Ezra held out his hand. It probably wasn't the best way to silence a military commander but Ezra needed a second. "She feels this, too?" He blinked at Eli, then let his eyes sink closed entirely. 

If the general had stared at him while he let himself more fully connect with the Force, Ezra didn't notice. He was too distracted by the feelings of fear and determination, anger and concern, all of it bright like tiny prickles of an early spring rain, cold and strange, nearly icy for how jolting it was. He felt how those feelings layered and grew more complex, how it had been smaller and grown large until it was nearly out of control.

“She feels a lot of things like this,” Eli supposed. “I wish she didn’t.”

Ezra could have staggered from the crushing feelings of loss that were well masked beneath all the sharper emotions. It was like a wide pool, willing to swallow him up. “This is all from the Navigators,” He said. It wasn’t a question.

“It is,” Eli answered him anyway.

“Why?”

He considered Ezra. “You were on your own at a young age, right?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"A lot, actually. Families here are different. If you're gifted with the sight, you're taken from your family." Eli waited a moment, watching his posture to confirm he was listening. "And when their Sight fades, they usually get adopted into a different one."

Ezra toed the metal grates beneath his feet with his boot. "That doesn't sound great."

"Not for you or me, but the Chiss don't look at families like we do," Agreed Eli. "Since the war started, it's worse for them. There's not usually so many of them aboard, but we're trying to protect them-"

"From the Grysks?"

Eli nodded, indicating that was partially true. "Yes, but right now, it's more about protecting them from the families that rule the Chiss worlds. Most of those families want to adopt them to indicate power and status. Some of them have been forced into and out of multiple families, traded in treaties like-" Eli paused just shy of calling them slaves. They were treated better when it came to accommodations, but it didn't change what they were to the families: assets, not fellow beings. Ezra leaned forward, looking at him with disgust. "They come out here to look into the eyes of the people who have chosen to fight against them when they realize they chose the wrong side, as well as to show their brothers and sisters who are rescued that it's safe here."

Ezra frowned at that. "So why we're here?"

Eli shrugged. "I thought you might be interested in helping the Navigators."

"I'm not fighting in their war," Ezra said. "Your war. Whatever."

"And I wouldn't ask you to.” He shrugged, “Besides, Thrawn already said you wouldn't." Eli's gaze swept over the mostly dim hangar, one fist tucked into the other hand behind his back. "There's nothing we can do for the Navigators already aboard the ship, " He admitted. "But there is something we can do to protect the ones to come. For that, I need your help... If you’re willing."


	26. Chapter 26

Un'hee wasn't in her bed when Eli returned to his cabin, but his discussion with Bridger hadn't taken all night cycle, either. The lights were all off, and the lock was still as he had left it. He knew Un'hee wouldn't turn the lights off of her own volition, and the emergency runners were on, so the lighting system hadn't failed. That meant that Thrawn had turned them off.

He crept quietly toward their now shared sleeping quarters. The door was open, but there were no glowing eyes regarding him in the dark. He had long since grown used to the dim lighting Ar'alani preferred on her vessels, so his eyes had adjusted enough to see. 

Still, he blinked rapidly as if to shake off an illusion. This wasn't one. Un'hee laid in the absolute center of the bed, one of her smaller blankets wrapped snug around her, her back to the door. Beyond that, Thrawn had an arm wrapped securely around her as if that alone were enough to protect her from the outside world.

Eli hadn’t expected her to seek comfort from Thrawn - to be consoled by him. Not by any failing of Thrawn’s own, but simply his divided interests in the overall situation. Un’hee knew Eli, trusted him, and saw past the veneer of his rank and title. Thrawn she knew, but not as well, nor for as long. 

It moved him more than he thought it would, sending him to action. He quietly unbuckled his sash and belt, shrugging off his tunic before padding into the ‘fresher and retrieving his discarded sleep pants. It was only seconds that he’d been gone, but by the time he emerged, Thrawn was blinking owlishly at him. To Eli, his eyes were reduced to their glow, simply garnet red in the dark, devoid of the pupil Eli could usually see under brighter situations.

“Hey,” Eli said, sliding under the blankets on his usual side. The motion disturbed Un’hee, but she settled quickly when Eli laid a hand on the back of her head. She snuggled into Thrawn, who, to Eli's surprise, allowed it, his grip tightening in acknowledgement before relaxing. “I hope she wasn’t-”

“She was fine,” Thrawn said, looking down into Un'hee's sleeping face, then back up at Eli. “it is nothing I have not handled before.”

Eli raised an eyebrow at him.

"This situation may be unique, but this is not unusual behavior for an overstimulated Navigator, much less a traumatized child." He fixed Eli with a stern look. "I thought we were waiting," He said, not disappointed but with gravity. Eli could not fool him, nor would he. "It was too soon."

"I couldn't sit on this," Eli said. "Whether he stays or goes is up to him. I offered a solution. He'll probably want to pick your brain for ideas come morning."

"We shall see," Thrawn supposed. "I had not expected him to react so strongly to me."

Eli smiled. "You're not just a warrior. You're a protector. He's not the first kid you've managed to change the opinion of."

Thrawn shook his head once, a micromovement. "I am not _that_ much older than you," He murmured back. 

"I'm sure it felt like it when we first met," Eli replied, and Thrawn's lips twitched with amusement before he let his eyes close. 

"On occasion," He supposed, voice growing thick. Eli smiled into the darkness, laying his hand atop Thrawn's arm, still draped protectively across a peacefully dreaming Un'hee. "Goodnight, Eli," He said, already mostly asleep.

"Goodnight."

\----------

Perhaps it wasn't advisable, but Thrawn did not seek out Ezra in his newfound captivity. His last discussion with the young man had been not long after Ezra had realized his response to all that had happened, and he had seemed uncomfortable with how much he had relied on Thrawn to get over the more traumatic related portions of the incident.

Bridger's choices needed to be his own. He had never attempted - nor would he attempt to coerce the Jedi to do something. Perhaps it would be different if they were alone, but he could not take the chance with so many others at stake. 

And yet, Thrawn also knew the young man was bright. He deflected often, and did not lead with that intelligence, but his survival instincts were keen and sharp, and whatever the Force told him, he seemed reasonably able to translate from a sense or a feeling into some tangible course of action. 

The only way he would ever be able to understand the human's Force, or the Navigators' Sight was as a tool. He sought knowledge to better understand, but his understanding was always going to be in the abstract.

It was humbling that Ezra Bridger - who had once been his enemy and once wanted both him and everyone associated with him dead - had trusted him instinctively, that he reached out toward him. Thrawn knew he was an instrument in a plan, a weapon of his people, a tool to be utilized for the greater good. And that life path meant making difficult choices and doing morally heinous things. He had committed great atrocities. He was not so naive as to believe he could not or would not do similar things again in order to protect his people. And yet he was aware of the cost and sought to minimize it if he could.

In the end it was Faro who approached him on the subject. Lately she had been mostly out of the way, her expertise and organization put to use by the admiral and general. It kept her busy. 

"I've spoken to Bridger, sir." Her voice was soft, careful.

“I have been kept apprised of his status,” Thrawn replied. “Has there been a change?”

Faro shook her head. “No, not really, I-” She exhaled. “I went to visit him. The admiral suggested it.”

Her body stance was unsure - possibly concerned that Thrawn’s reasoning behind his own avoidance was that he wanted Ezra isolated. Or, it could be that she found herself worried for the Jedi’s well-being despite her previous reservations. More than likely it was a combination of the two. 

“He asked about you.”

“And your answer?”

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “I can’t speak for you, Thrawn,” She held his gaze. “He knows that. He asked me why you’re avoiding him.” She crossed her arms and evaluated him carefully. “You’re not avoiding him, are you?”

“He has yet to ask to see me.”

“Well, he has now,” She said. “And he was embarrassed about it. He seemed pretty convinced you were upset with him. I’m supposed to tell you that wasn’t his intent.”

“Is there anything else?”

She shrugged. “He said he wanted to talk to you alone. Whatever it was, he seemed concerned. Not enough to cause trouble, but…”

Thrawn inclined his head. “I understand.”

He paced himself: Finished his shift on the bridge, checked in with his crew and his admiral, messaged Eli, then took the long way to the brig, organizing his thoughts. Preparing for each possibility. Contemplating what influence Eli’s conversation might have had on him. He had not asked for details regarding Eli's "solution," nor had Eli provided them.

The guards were tense and ill at ease when he entered the brig. When he dismissed them, they stepped out just a little too quickly to be polite. Thrawn looked into the cell and checked Ezra over.

He appeared unharmed. The Chiss would not harm him in captivity unless he harmed them first, considering that he had not done anything they could specifically prove. Un’hee, that first night, had told Thrawn it was her fault, but Thrawn had noticed her tendency to internalize issues, to blame herself for things that were outside of her ability to control. Un'hee had also spoken to Eli and Ar'alani after that first night and, though they seemed to find the blame shared, they also remained resolute about their course of action.

A moment or two after Thrawn had concluded he was alright, Bridger's expressive blue eyes opened. He remained where he was, kneeling on the cot that was bolted to the wall. 

"Hi," He greeted Thrawn. His face was near-always calm after meditation. Today it shifted into worry a bit quicker than Thrawn cared for. His tone was subdued, too. "Long time no see."

Thrawn gave him a nod and released the door to his cell. "We will be going to an interrogation room," He said and added, "But my intent is not to interrogate you."

Ezra nodded back, staying just far ahead of Thrawn for him to always be in the Chiss's sights. Cautious, wanting to be trusted, Thrawn noted. "Did Faro convince you to come?" He asked.

"No," The commander opened the door to the furthest room from the cell block, a kindness that allowed Ezra to stretch his legs. "I had been waiting for you."

At that the young man frowned, but didn't comment. He followed Thrawn's wordless instructions dutifully, sitting at the table in the center of the room and ignoring the binder loop on the table. Thrawn had not made him wear any sort of restraint.

"Are you angry with me?" Ezra blurted as Thrawn sat across from him at the metal table.

"Have you done something to inspire anger?" He asked calmly.

"I," He exhaled, running a hand down the side of his face. "No, I don't think so, but that whole thing was-" He dropped his hands to his lap and looked at the table.

"You trusted me," Thrawn began, voice measured and cool. Clinical. Not emotional. It made things easier for them both. "I could tell that upset you."

Ezra winced, then chanced a look up at Thrawn. "At first, yeah. It did." He bit his lip. "But-"

"That is to be expected-"

"There was a lot going on," Ezra said over Thrawn. He looked uncomfortable, but held the Chiss's gaze all the same. "And you helped me. I wasn't prepared for that. I woke up and you were just-" He shook his head. "I didn't expect it, but… I'm glad you were there." He offered Thrawn a tentative smile. "I owe you one."

Thrawn waved a hand, as if he could physically move the entire discussion behind them. He did not wish to linger on such sentiment - despite the truth of it - any more than Ezra did. 

Ezra didn't settle like Thrawn had hoped he would. In fact, he seemed more nervous. He put his hands on the table now, the fingers of his right hand tapping against the back of his left. He kept his eyes on them. “Is Un’hee alright?”

“She is back to normal.” She’d been sleeping in Eli’s - in _their_ quarters since it happened, though she had not needed to sleep in bed with them since that first night. Her independence was quite admirable. She’d struggled, but she insisted on learning to cope. Thrawn had no doubt the young man in front of him knew quite a bit about those things, despite the differences in their circumstances. “At least, what is normal for her.”

The Jedi nodded. “When… when we touched hands, we connected.”

“That is what we suspected,” Thrawn mused, gesturing for him to continue.

“She,” His head swayed back and forth as he considered how to put what he wanted to say. “It’s not like... “ He exhaled, trying to think of the right words. Thrawn waited. “The last time I felt anything like that was with Kanan,” He began, watching Thrawn’s face as he spoke the words. “But it was different.”

Thrawn’s eyes gleamed with interest and suspicion. “Different how?”

“Different like me,” Ezra murmured to his hands before he lifted his head. “Like how I used to reach out to my master, before I knew what it was doing.”

“Both Admiral Ar’alani and General Eli have said that her Sight has faded,” Thrawn reminded him.

The Jedi frowned. “The Force is in everything. It might fade in some ways, but everybody’s got it. It’s just how sensitive they are to it.” He fixed Thrawn with an almost stern look that was almost out of place on the usually casual young man. “Look. Eli took me to the hangar and said that Un’hee felt something there. Like the emotions experienced there.” He swallowed. “I can feel that stuff. I don’t care what navigators do. It doesn’t matter if she’s one of them or not.”

“You believe she’s a Jedi.”

“I believe she’s Force sensitive,” He began, almost manic, focusing on getting all of the words out before Thrawn could stop him. “I think the reason the Force wanted me to follow you here is because she needs someone to teach her.”

Thrawn studied him for a long moment, and Ezra squirmed under his scrutinous stare. “You have not told Eli,” He said, folding his hands together and setting his chin upon them. His eyes narrowed further. “Why?”

“I needed to meditate on it,” He admitted. “There are a lot of paths I could take and I wanted to make sure I thought it through.” He pulled a face. “And,” He sighed, open and honest when he added, “I wanted your opinion first.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very small bit of spicy content towards the end of the chapter, but nothing too graphic. Just wanted to warn anyone who's trying to avoid those bits.

Un'hee kicked her feet, legs swinging gently. They were too short to touch the floor. In front of her, Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo and Admiral Ar'alani went back and forth, arguing in rolling waves that started as near-silent hissing of their point and escalated into crashing, booming yells. The yelling made her want to clamp her hands over her ears, but she sat on them instead. 

Beside her, Eli was silent. Pensive. Whatever he considered had nothing to do with the two warriors in front of them, engrossed in intense debate.

She didn't want to be special like Mitth'raw'nuruodo's Jedi had said she was. She wanted to be nothing. Normal, for once, a former Navigator who could maybe someday go and do something that _she_ wanted without the Chaos punishing her for it. Not that she had particularly wanted much, but so far she had had one wish, and the price for that had been-

Eli's hand was warm against her back. She didn't look up at him, just as he didn't look down at her. Only his thumb moved, making a reassuring back and forth motion that used to make her cry for how much she'd wanted someone to comfort her, how long she had waited to finally feel safe. 

When the admiral started yelling again, Eli leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"It's going to be alright, I promise."

She swallowed reflexively and closed her eyes, knowing that if she looked up at him, if she looked into his face and the kindness she knew was there, she might never stop crying.

Instead of that, she watched Thrawn. Thrawn, who had helped her - who _continued_ to help her. Who honored Eli with his feelings and honored her as Eli's… well, as what she was to him and what he was to her, though it was all rather unofficial. Thrawn did not raise his voice except to cut off the Admiral when she began to yell. His defense of the human Sky-walker was vehement but not blind. The Sky-walker had harmed him once, as he had harmed them. He had been Thrawn's enemy, someone he had wanted to kill. But now, he was insistent that Ezra'bridger was a good fit, a worthy ally, and could potentially help her-

Ezra thought that Un'hee was like him. That was what Thrawn had told them. All of them. She wondered if Eli was upset that Thrawn had told them all at once. She suspected he might be, just a little. Because Thrawn's eyes kept flicking to him, assessing...

Seemingly immune to his sneaked glances, Eli watched them patiently. She shuffled closer to him. How he could be so calm while they carried on like this? It was beyond her. She pressed her face into his side and breathed, slow and even, counting like she had been taught, trying to block out everything except Eli. 

Except, after a moment, Eli rose from where he sat beside her. He didn't say anything, but the motion was enough to make the other two Chiss stop bickering and send questioning looks their way. 

He always flushed a little under scrutiny, and a little more in anger. Immediately, she could tell it was a combination of both. His eyes, though they could not glow, flashed with something fierce that reminded her of lightning. She tilted her head microscopically in a question and Eli only opened his arms to her in response.

She went immediately, shoving her face against where his shoulder met his neck, mindful of the metal clips towards the front and center of his throat that would be cold by comparison. He smelled like safety, like starlight and something not-Chiss.

"None of this matters," He said sternly. His native accent came out, warping the Cheunh with a subtle twang. Un'hee tensed in his arms. He cradled the back of her neck and the base of her skull with his hand in a soothing gesture. "If he wants to help us, let him out and we’ll proceed with my plan. If he doesn't, send him home and forget he ever came here."

Thrawn stared at him. Un'hee could feel it without lifting her head and looking. She swore she could feel the surprise like a thick syrup. He couldn't tell if Eli was bluffing.

Eli wasn't bluffing though. That was what he believed. She remembered distantly that it used to be Thrawn with the plans, and Eli following. It must be difficult for him.

"And what about your plans, then?" Ar'alani asked waspishly. "The holocron? Un-?"

"You don't like that plan anyway," He interrupted. He was tense, but slowly willed himself to calm. His temper was like fire. It was easy to burn oneself with it if it wasn't carefully controlled. She clung to him a little harder. "And it was never the be-all-end-all plan."

Ar'alani looked over them, the weight of her gaze heavy on Un'hee's back. She exhaled slowly and relented. "It changes things if there is someone - a Chiss - capable of harnessing that power. _If_ what Mitth'raw'nuruodo's Jedi says is true."

"No." Un'hee picked her head up, seeing Eli's face in profile. "You do not get to make that choice," He said. His eyes were hard, dark red-brown and angry. The light of her eyes cast a glow on his face. This was not a negotiation.

Ar'alani blinked, taken aback by her general's durasteel tone. It was rare that Eli spoke to his admiral like this, even behind closed doors.

"If you trust the Jedi enough to train Un'hee, he would have access to the information anyway," Thrawn considered, quieter. Ar'alani's withering glare was still simmering with heat. "Someone would have to teach her how."

"Whatever Un'hee decides - _if_ she chooses to decide, regardless of what the Jedi says she is - is irrelevant. There are other plans. I am prepared for multiple contingencies."

That drew Ar'alani's attention, made something inside her buck like a wild animal. Un’hee watched her look not at Eli, but Thrawn. Her eyes gave away nothing, but she felt - Un'hee could almost feel the coil of despair, the duty and honor and compassion all tangled up inside her, none more important than the other, but decisions had to be made. 

"You trust this Jedi of yours, Thrawn?" Ar'alani asked.

Thrawn nodded once, swallowing. Un'hee rested her head.

Ar'alani sighed. "Fine. You will bring him to me. The three of us shall discuss things. If I am satisfied with his answers, he will be returned to his previous quarters until it is determined whether or not he will assist Eli with his project."

\----------

It had taken time and more than a little interrogation on Admiral Ar'alani's part, but Ezra had managed to carve out a piece of Ar'alani's begrudging respect with his honesty. He had been returned to his previous living situation with a warning to mind his abilities around others. Not long after that, a much quieter conversation had occurred between Eli and Bridger. And that had led to this.

Thrawn was quite surprised that Un'hee had asked to join them. Not only that, but she had chosen to sit with him over Eli. 

He had noticed her increased presence in his life since he and Eli had grown, well... intimate. She typically went to Eli for comfort first, but then there were times where she would curl up in a chair across from Thrawn's (well, Eli's former) desk and sketch near silently while he studied relevant artworks or read scouting reports from their field operatives. Slowly but surely, she had resorted to her usual independence following the incident with Bridger, but he could see her nervousness, the way she kept her gloved fists tight when the Jedi greeted her.

She was brave. It was not the association of a biased parent on Eli's part. Thrawn could objectively see her choosing to face her fears, to be independent but do so in a controlled fashion. Eli winked at her and she flushed a little, the skin blurred a pale lavender, but calmed. He was good with children, Thrawn had known that.

It was an entire other beast to see him with a Chiss child. It stirred something in Thrawn, like a fluttering insect or a fragile bloom. He was content to teach and mentor. He had never had the instinctual drive to create life or raise a youngling of his own.

And yet, he found he would not be opposed to assisting Eli with this one. Perhaps it was kinship with another wayward youth, or perhaps it was his devotion to Eli. The reason mattered little. When Un'hee twitched, Thrawn nudged her knee with his leg. She blinked up at him, distracted from whatever thoughts had been disturbing her, but he said nothing.

Thrawn and Eli had speculated in messages, exchanged on nights when one or the other were kept up with her while the other was on-shift, that there were plenty of reasons for her fear of Bridger. That it was not a fear of him, or even a distrust. That it was her own internal conflict long since buried away. Bridger had exasperated a problem Eli already knew existed, he'd told Thrawn. A problem that had existed before Ezra or Un'hee had ever dreamed of the other.

Still, Thrawn knew Eli and Ar'alani's trust of the young Jedi was only due to Thrawn's own. Thrawn was grateful for it. He looked up into Eli’s eyes. The human was watching him, eyes dark and interested. No doubt he had caught the interaction between them. Somehow, he seemed unable to miss even the slightest fluctuations in the girl's status.

"So where do we get one?" Ezra inserted himself into their wordless exchange, looking over the image Thrawn had scanned from Un'hee's journal. "Or even the crystal to make one?" He asked. "Kanan-" Thrawn caught the slightest hitch, the young man so unused to bringing up his former master, much less with current company, "The one he had came from the Jedi temple. It was used as a means of transmitting messages, but it also stored other information. Lessons, stuff like that."

That was information Bridger had already shared. Eli set his questis on the table between them, and rested his laced fingers atop it. “I have a lead,” He said carefully. Lieutenant Shibu has been kind enough to do some research for me on the side.” Thrawn’s own questis buzzed in front of him, and Un’hee leaned forward to see the report that had just come through. Thrawn swallowed. 

“A museum?” He asked, eyes narrowing.

“There are relics from old wars.”

“Those artifacts will be heavily guarded,” Thrawn said. “The passive security systems-”

Eli nodded. “Normally, I’d agree with you. But we’re at war, and the museum is split between opposing family lands. It’s already been the subject of one attack. I want to try here, first, before we go actively stirring up trouble where there is none. He looked a little guilty. “I wouldn’t disturb things if I felt we had other options.”

“I know,” Thrawn answered, and looked down to Un’hee. She had closed her eyes, but did not squeeze them shut in discomfort.

After a moment, she opened them. "Am I going, too?" Her voice was small.

"You'll stay here with the Admiral," Eli said softly. "It will be safer."

"Will you be safe?"

"I'll do my best to be," He said back. She looked up at Thrawn next, anticipation obvious. She expected an answer from him.

"We shall all endeavor to return without issue, Un'hee," Thrawn said.

Un'hee inclined her head to him, then levied Ezra with a look that had the young man shifting to attention. The Jedi smiled encouragingly and nodded, but no words were spoken. She clenched her fists, crossing her arms, and his face fell, but he did not look away even after Un’hee had looked down.

Eli watched the exchange, his posture shifting from open to stoic, aware that something was going on. "We’ll depart this time tomorrow," He said, mostly for Ezra’s benefit. “I’d suggest you rest up.”

\----------

“You will need to be quiet,” Thrawn said - well, more like breathed, it was so quiet - into his ear. 

“I know, I-” Eli broke off, gasping. “I’m trying,” He hissed back, half impatient, half too turned on to care about the first part.

Thrawn chuckled, the sound deep and naturally voracious. “I know you are,” He said, indulgent. He slid down Eli’s body, cool hands warming on heated skin. “You’ve been keyed up since earlier.”

“I have,” He admitted easily. “You were-”

Thrawn lowered his lips to the part of Eli that so desperately desired his attention. He pulled back too soon, Eli keening and writhing, so much that Thrawn had to hold his hips, which was equally enticing to the man beneath him. The Chiss waited for him to settle, holding his hazy, lust-drunk gaze until it had begun to clear.

“She is yours,” He affirmed, “And you are mine.” There was no dark-edge to these words, only the strictest seriousness. 

Eli pushed himself up. “Is that what you want?”

The Chiss’s pensive expression broke. “I want you,” He answered immediately. “I want everything that entails.” He ran his palm down that darker, hotter flesh, over a raised nipple and down the rest of Eli’s abdomen, then squeezed his hip possessively, murmuring, “I do not want this to separate us.”

Eli tensed under him. “This is the option least likely to call for it,” He began softly, “But if-”

“I know.” Thrawn leaned forward and kissed him. “We will do what our duty demands,” He said, eyes closed, lips barely ghosting against Eli’s. 

Eli could tell from his half-distracted tone that Thrawn was trying to find another solution but had yet to come up with anything. He didn’t like it any more than Thrawn did. But they had always - would always - act in the best interests of all of those they’d sworn to protect before considering their own.

He looped his arms around Thrawn’s neck and pulled him in. “We want the same things,” He whispered, kissing him with an urgency that bubbled up without warning. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” Thrawn whispered. He did not open his eyes, and Eli had the feeling he knew the same thing Eli did - they were grasping at smoke and whispers. There were too many unknowns to be confident that this would work. 


	28. Chapter 28

Ezra jumped back from the door in surprise, eyes going wide as he looked up at Thrawn, as of yet unfinished fastening the sash of his uniform. His hair was wet, one longer strand curling over his forehead. He did not bother to move it as he looked down at the much shorter Jedi.

“What are you doing here?” Ezra asked, his features projecting his obvious shock.

Behind Thrawn, a yawning Un’hee cocked her head. “He lives here,” She answered, bleary-eyed. She swiped at them with the back of her hand. “Why are _you_ here?” She asked back, voice sharp and pinched, clearly irritated that her sleep had been disturbed.

Thrawn stepped back from the door, as if to offer Ezra to come in. Un'hee rose as primly as a pajama clad child could, taking her blankets with her as she rose from her sleep couch. She glared at Ezra for as long as they had sight lines on each other. A moment later, an interior door hissed closed.

"I needed to talk to the general," Ezra said muttered, blinking rapidly. His face had started to heat, likely against his will. "I, uh-"

"Do not stand out in the hallway," Thrawn said, turning away from it. "Come in."

"But-"

The interior door hissed open and closed again, this time admitting a white clad, mostly dressed Eli into the main living space. Unlike Thrawn, his tunic and belt-sash were folded over his arm. "Is everything alright?" He asked, dark eyes flitting between Thrawn and Ezra. He too had wet hair, but also pink-stained cheeks from the heat of the fresher's shower unit.

Ezra couldn't help it, he gawked. 

"Are you alright?" Thrawn asked him, voice edging towards mild concern. 

Eli put a hand on Thrawn's shoulder and squeezed, slipping around him. The motion was domestic, natural, and Ezra couldn't help but focus on it. "I just - yeah, I-"

"Don't look too shell-shocked, kid," Eli said, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Sit down," He motioned to a table and chairs in the small kitchenette space as he quickly donned the rest of his uniform - this cabin was larger, likely due to the rank of the officer who held it - and sat down himself.

Thrawn disappeared back into the sleep quarters, where Un'hee had gone. Ezra refused to consider what that meant, though he had already seen the small sleep couch and heard the possessive undertone of Un'hee's words.

"What did you want to talk about?" Eli asked him, head tilted slightly in curiosity. He folded his hands patiently in front of himself on the table and waited.

Ezra sighed. "I've been thinking," He began tentatively. "And," He held Eli's gaze and took a deep breath. "I think that Un'hee needs to come with us."

Eli frowned. He leaned forward, shoulders curling out of that perfect, chiss-like posture. “Why do you say that?” He asked, with a practiced evenness. Ezra could see him clench his fists, catching concern that made his forehead crinkle and eyebrows pull together slightly.

“I just have a feeling,” Ezra said. “I know it’s probably not safe, but-”

“It is absolutely not safe,” The general confirmed. “Un’hee has been through enough.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “And she hasn’t agreed to anything with regards to you.”

“I… know,” He said. “I just… wanted to tell you what I thought.” He glanced over Eli’s shoulder, in the direction that Un’hee had gone. “She’s special,” Ezra said. “She-”

The door hissed open, and Un’hee stomped out, still pajama clad with Thrawn looming over her shoulder, like a protective shadow. The cocoon of blankets were no longer draped around her. “You couldn’t have waited until a normal time to come, could you?” She wagged a finger at Ezra, her tone sharp and accusing. “You knew I wanted to sleep in.”

“How would Bridger know that?” Thrawn interjected.

Un’hee flushed.

Ezra beamed. “You _were_ projecting on purpose.”

“Only because you are _loud_ , and I wished for you to be _quiet_ ,” She argued. “But you didn’t listen.”

Dubiously, Ezra retorted, “How else was I going to be able to tell? It wasn’t like you’ve been answering me.”

“You two can communicate?” Eli asked, looking between them, then back to Thrawn.

“Yes,” Ezra said, as Un’hee’s lips twisted sheepishly, and she hedged, “Kind of.”

Eli sighed and rested his elbows on his table, his head in his hands. Un’hee put her own small hand atop his head. “I know why you want me to come with you,” She said to Ezra, her earlier malice forgotten. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to help you. I can feel things that are familiar. Things I know.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” The Jedi answered. “And I think that this would be the easiest way for you to know for yourself.”

“And if I don’t want to know?” She asked. It wasn’t angry, or fearful. She was hesitant, but-

The general raised his head.

Ezra folded his hands on the tabletop and looked between the three of them before settling his gaze on Un’hee. “We’re a lot alike. We’re afraid to let go, to stop being afraid of the truth. I think you’ve always been different, Un’hee. I think that there's a reason why you made it through all those terrifying things in your past.” He smiled. It held sadness and hope in equal measure. “And I think it’s probably the same reason I survived alone for so long.”

Un’hee heaved a sigh and removed her hand from Eli’s head. “I wish to speak with Eli,” She said, voice rising with tension. “Alone.”

\----------

Naporar was hardly the place Thrawn had expected them to go to, but as far as contested space went, it made sense. The military academy and sky-walker complexes were easy accessed by the families and thus easily fought over. The chaos and confusion led to a lack in planetary defenses, gaps that were easily traversed. The military powers that had been dissolved and divided amongst the factions: Factions Thrawn typically heard his crew describe as either the Mitth or all those who opposed the Mitth but likewise rejected the Defense Fleet. They were scattered. Sloppy.

They were horrifyingly wide open to attack by an outside force.

If a large threat tripped orbital alarms, Thrawn did not see any indication that there would be a proper response. The means had been taken away. The military base was abandoned, hollowed out and stripped of anything of value. The Sky-walker academy looked as though it had been bombed.

Chiss were, had always been elegant, but efficient, often brutal beings. Thrawn had seen the ugliness of all sorts of creatures, but seeing this - seeing what his own people had done, had done to their own, to those who devoted themselves to serving the greater Ascendancy - was worse than anything he’d seen. Not even the black hearts of foolish and selfish humans could shake him quite like this. 

“It’ll work out,” Eli said softly into his thoughts. He continued to look straight ahead instead of at Thrawn. It was a kindness. Thrawn had nothing to hide from Eli and it was clear that Eli acknowledged his less favorable emotions, yet Thrawn would have closed himself off if Eli had turned to look at him. They had a job to do, and two Sky-walkers to watch out for. Eli was respectful. Cognizant of who and what Thrawn was, his limitations and desires. He did not want to change Thrawn, rather, he wished to exist beside him. With him.

The Chiss clenched his fists over the armrests of the copilot's chair. He had never felt so personally connected to consequences before. It was different when it was a mission. Of course there were more important beings than himself - his people, overall, and in this case, most specifically the Navigators - for whom he wished to prevent any negative outcome. But it was so much more than that. It was uncomfortable. Personal.

He had a stake in this, even if he’d never meant to, even if this wasn’t about him and he knew it. This was not something he could take back. He could not - he _would not_ \- lie to himself.

Eli finished landing the ship, carefully landing near their destination, near enough to jump out a first or second story window on the southeast side and make it to the ship with relative ease. It was all meticulously planned. When they finally touched down, Eli was calm. He waited for Thrawn before he rose from his chair, locking down systems as he went.

Thrawn fell into step beside him, guiding Un'hee to stand between them with Bridger at their backs. 

The building had been a museum, alright. But it had also been looted, compromised by laser fire. The whole area had definitely seen better days. 

"The structure seems sound," Eli said, appraising the building's outer walls, looking for any potential deficiencies. The walls and roof did not slope at all, as if in the beginning stage of collapse, though much of the exterior was damaged. "Still, we ought to be careful."

"Security systems?" Thrawn asked. They had yet to encounter resistance, which Eli had predicted given Ar'alani's more overt maneuvers closer to the Chiss homeworld, but Thrawn did not expect it to be without the inherent divergences most plans typically faced.

"Already cracked. Not that it matters, Tehke can hack pretty just about anything from anywhere." 

As if to prove a point, Un'hee waved at the security cameras as they entered through an ancillary door that once accommodated deliveries. Eli smirked and shook his head at her antics before his expression settled. 

Thrawn supposed it was just as well, few knew their objective.

There were water leaks in the great, tall ceiling of the main floor, where the most prestigious displays would be. Pieces that told of familial accolades or expressed the pride of the Ascendancy would have been on display. They were stripped bare.

"All that remains is foreign," Ezra commented, seeing smaller, dusty and cracked displays left untouched. He looked around the museum, squinting at the dim light. He paused, examining human artifacts. They were outdated.

"A dangerous metaphor," Thrawn intoned gravely. "These are the tools and materials both enemies and allies we cultivated used in the past." He considered saying more, but refrained.

Un'hee turned her curious, glowing eyes to Ezra. Once they had stepped inside, Un’hee lingered behind Thrawn and Eli, slowly gravitating toward the Jedi though she had also taken the time to look around. “Well?” She asked.

Ezra looked around. “I don’t see anything resembling a holocron,” He said.

“I didn’t think there would be one waiting for us,” Eli said, gesturing that they should follow him and Thrawn further inside. “The most valuable items are kept in the main displays,” He explained again, for the human’s benefit. “What we’re looking for isn’t considered valuable to most people. After all, it’s not like just anyone can open one. From what I can tell it looks like an ornate paperweight to the untrained eye.” The general kept his hand poised to reach for his blaster, urged Ezra and Un’hee to go ahead of them, and together they made their way through the exhibits.

\----------

"I gotta admit," Bridger toed at crumbling plaster from a half-destroyed partition, muttering to himself, "This isn't how I expected to learn Chiss history."

Thrawn was knowledgeable, sharing facts as they passed through rows of sculpts and artisan wares. Both he and Eli had grown more reserved as time passed. Ezra wondered why. He considered reaching out, but Un'hee was like a beacon, demanding his attention on a subconscious level. He had to pay attention to her, not to them. 

He didn't know all that much about the Force, it was true. But he knew when it was trying to tell him something, he listened. And the Force was definitely telling him something.

Un’hee kicked around with him, looking mostly disinterested in the displays. She seemed distracted. Ezra looked to Eli and Thrawn, who stood nearby, combing through an adjacent display of what appeared to be artwork. No doubt Thrawn was in his element.

“Anything?” She asked him.

“Not yet,” Ezra replied. “You?”

She shook her head swiftly. “But _I_ ,” She stressed, “Won’t be able to tell.”

Ezra hummed. “Right,” He agreed, deciding not to push. Had he been this difficult? He shook his head, a wry smile curving his lips. Of course he had been. If the looks Thrawn gave him from time to time were to be believed, he probably hadn’t changed all that much. 

If what the Force wanted - what Ezra _thought_ it wanted - was in fact the truth, would he really be able to step up to the task? 

He took a deep breath, watching as the girl hesitated before wandering further from the others. This path would not be easy, whether he was committed to it wholeheartedly or not. He had made so many mistakes in the course of his own training. He wasn’t exactly a Jedi Knight.

Un’hee slipped under a roped barricade and began moving up to the third level. There was a look on her face. One of concern, of unease. Ezra didn’t need to be able to reach out to her to understand what she was feeling. He hadn’t been lying to her about their similarities. 

He had been equally excited and terrified when he learned he had the Force. Excited, because he was special. Terrified because what if he failed, or he wasn’t good enough, or his master had given up on him? Knowing it was there was like realizing there was this voice inside him, like his conscience but more subtle. Like a nudge, turning his head a certain way or a breath on the back of his neck to bring him back to focus. 

When he searched his memories, he remembered finding Kanan, how, under all his other motivations there had been this insistent tug, like a magnet trying to draw them together. He felt that now, only it was so much more overwhelming. Un’hee had no control over her latent abilities. Abilities that were far stronger than she realized.

Ezra chanced another glance toward the two men across the floor. They were caught up in quiet discussion, Thrawn’s usual withdrawn presence more frenetic and tense than usual. Eli was concerned, but it was muted, buffeted by a sense of purpose. Now that he knew about them, that they were - well, he _assumed_ they were, considering… well, _everything_ \- a thing, he could see how they almost overlapped in the Force, how they reached toward each other in a way that wasn’t physical.

There were other things to think about there, other possibilities. He couldn’t focus on them now. Ezra didn’t think there was anything here for him. He would have felt it.

“I don’t think we’ll find anything down here,” Ezra said, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “We should go upstairs.”

He felt a small bloom of hot irritation like a prickle at the top of his spine. Un’hee wasn’t pleased that he had drawn attention to her. And yet, Eli had already located her at the top of the elaborate staircase that went to the upper level, and was telling her to wait for the rest of them.

Ezra hadn’t really been alone when he embraced that this, the Force, was a part of his destiny. If Un’hee was to share that path, if these were her first steps, she would do it with people who cared for her at her back.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd.... we're back!
> 
> Sorry for the long delay on this chapter. For knowing where this was going, it took a LOOOOOONG time to get onto paper and out into the universe. And nevermind the brief delay caused by me writing that one teensy, tiny "one-shot" ..... Apparently I should just resign myself to writing slow burn forever hahaha.
> 
> PS: I'll be answering all my comments, I've been so bad about that too, I'm so sorry!!!!

Something had changed the moment Un’hee stepped into the room. The strange, wave-like sensation that had been slowly urging her forward, directing her further with a gentle, surreal touch had begun to swell, like the music Vah’nya so often listened to racing toward its peak. She heard the slow, even footsteps of the Jedi, of Ezra coming up beside her. He regarded her for an instant before continuing past. He said nothing, which bothered her almost as much as if he had.

She could _feel_ him. Tentative and expectant, waiting for her to do or see something. It was almost nagging compared to the other presence, the one that felt like an ocean lapping insistently at her feet. .

“Let’s look around,” Eli said, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing as he passed, Thrawn at his side.

She nodded, voice small and distracted-sounding even to her own ears. “Okay, Eli.” 

Snow melt leaked from cracks and holes in the roof overhead. This room was colder. In some places, Un’hee could see the sky. Some of the least supported areas had begun to cave in, and most of the relics here had been either damaged, or trapped beneath rubble. It was so strange. The museum had looked so complete from the outside and lower levels.

She moved slowly, hoping that if there was something she could find that it would come out and tell her, or that these strange sensations would just surge up like a sign, saying, 'Here, l am what you came for!'

There was a tiny feeling at the base of her skull, like tinkling bells. Light and airy, ruffled by a warm breeze. Ezra made eye contact with her, a row of strange, broken tablets encased in broken transparisteel between them. His expression didn't change but she felt his amusement. 

And something else. It was smaller, hidden underneath. Understanding. He smiled at her, blue eyes bright like the space between jumps, dark and comfortable. Wiser than others thought. She exhaled.

He drew Eli and Thrawn's attention away with an inquisitive point in the other direction, asking some irrelevant question. Another ripple of feeling in her mind felt like a smile. Supportive. 

The Jedi felt whatever she did, must have. So why didn't he just point her in the right direction? He, at least, must have understood how this felt, even a little. She frowned. She would try, if only to honor her discussion with Eli. 

She continued moving through rows of damaged displays from ancient seeming wars. In her mind's eye she saw Eli's face, the way his hands held hers as she tried to explain how she and Ezra'Bridger had connected, how they could imprint their feelings upon each other. She felt the almost tangible warmth that was his love for her. Human love, a bright feeling like sunshine and blooming flowers, always reaching for her, always surrounding her like a warm hug or a secret smile of support. Eli didn't understand her powers. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure he would know how. He would try for her, and he had promised he would be there for her, whatever path she went down. 

The Ascendancy had tried to stop them, had made it clear that they would not recognize them as a family, But Eli Vanto had never shied away from loving her like a parent loved their offspring. Like her parents, the ones she knew she’d had but couldn’t remember in the tangle of blankness that had been _before_ would have wanted for her. Eli loved her wholeheartedly. Unconditionally. Un’hee wondered if the families - the big ones, the important ones felt something like that, but in their own Chiss-like way. If instead of love they felt loyalty or solidarity. Or, if maybe she had opened herself, had become just a little human inside because she knew it was not honor or loyalty alone, but love she felt for Eli. That it was almost as if she had not been Un’hee, had not been herself, before he’d been there.

She got the feeling that they (the Ascendancy, the Families, the Chiss-) could call it however they wanted, but deep down, it was all the same. Thrawn’s honor was the same as Eli’s love for him. It might be a little different from that which Eli felt for Un’hee, but she could feel it, rooted from that same bright, sunny feeling. 

It was a feeling she wanted to hold onto, like a secret. But it was also a feeling she wanted to share. She clasped her hands over her chest and thought about it. She thought about that feeling, that small, wonderful light in so much darkness and anger and hatred all around them. She thought about the families fighting each other and themselves. She thought about the Navigators, the ones who had come and gone before her, the ones Eli desperately protected now, and the ones that would come after. She thought about her Sight. 

This thing inside her was not that. These rippling ocean-waves of feeling were _touch_ in the way that navigating was _sight_. She did not need to see with her eyes, or her senses. She needed to reach out from somewhere deep within her chest, her spirit, her sense of being. She opened her eyes and looked down at her gloved hands, unclenching them. She took a deep breath. Her shoulders rose and fell, her chest expanded and compressed. She looked up to see Ezra’s eyes on her again. His face was blank, but his eyes were sharp, and he nodded to her.

They were looking for something and Ezra had said that he believed her help would be necessary. They were looking for a holocron, a gleaming instrument of knowledge-protection. One they could use. One that would help Eli protect the Navigators from the Families, would hide away knowledge that would make them bargaining chips in some game that no being should play with any other living thing. 

Eli was honest in a way most adults weren’t. He did not lie about his fears.

She had felt it, all the way back, before any of this. She remembered it. His fear was that if his algorithm could tell the families how gifted children came to be - and it could, Un’hee knew it with her whole being - that they would stop being individuals, and start being things.

It was why she had chosen him over any other family. 

And what had the families done in response? They had made his fears legitimate.

She wanted to help Eli, wanted to help him save her people - _their_ people - from themselves.

She was willing to do whatever she could to help them. She knew what waited for them if they stayed divided. She knew better than any other being.

And she would do anything to prevent that from happening.

Those wave-like feelings of _something_ returned, bolstered by her resolve. It felt different, yet again. Instead of cool waves nipping at her feet as if to tell her it was there, it was definitely ushering her forward, pushing at her back. It wasn’t a sign or a point in the right direction. It was as if these feelings around her were inside her, too, as if maybe they had been all along. Inside her, and… outside of her, too.

She thought of Ezra, then. Well, not of Ezra, really.

 _“What’s the Force?”_ She’d asked, in a voice - a language - that was unfamiliar.

She could feel apprehensive teal eyes looking at her, could feel the fluttering rush in her belly. _“The Force is everywhere. It surrounds us and penetrates us, it binds the galaxy together,”_ He had answered, voice measured and careful, understanding. And underneath it all, there had a sense of loss and uncertainty that she - no, that _Ezra_ couldn’t quite grasp, but Un’hee understood perfectly.

Her eyes opened, going wide. Her hands shook, but she made herself relax, let her feet carry her forward without thinking. Just… trusting. She could see the holocron from Ezra’s memories in her mind’s eye. She’d sketched it plenty of times. It was blue, the color of Thrawn and Ar’alani’s skin, two shades paler than her own. Un’hee’s skin was cobalt and cerulean, the color of oceans, not the blue of the sky and distant stars. 

She found herself toward the back of the exhibit, looking at golden spheres and thick magnifying lenses that oozed with desire to be used, to interpret the unknown. No, that was not what they were looking for. She let her feelings carry her on. Another row of relics behind thick, thick glass. Trinkets and tokens that meant nothing to her, nothing to their purpose.

It was at the end of another row, one that ended in rubble that she paused to consider that there were other holocrons, too. Un’hee remembered from those dreams that were not dreams at all. She recalled the chaotic twist of red and black, of anger and fear that she’d struggled away from, fear that was too much like the fear she had pushed deep, deep down. But that wasn’t the kind of holocron that could hold Eli’s data; It couldn’t help protect the Chiss from the truths they weren’t ready to know.

Her feet had propelled her as she thought and thought, until suddenly she realized she was no longer thinking - or moving - at all. 

At her feet, framed in icy gray light from fissures in the ceiling above, was a gleaming dodecahedral shape. It was a holocron, Un’hee thought. Or, at least, it had been, once. Cracks like ice fractals spun out from a broken corner, and even the golden metallic frame of it seemed not to glow. She looked down at it, heart sinking. 

She dropped to her knees before it, uncaring about the wet floor or ruins of stucco and ceiling around her as she wrenched off her right glove, then the left. She picked it up very, very carefully, like it was a fledgling bird, a skittish thing. It jangled loud in the silence, the air seeming to drop another twenty degrees as the degree to which it was broken made itself known.

“Perhaps we can rebuild or study it,” Thrawn said, several steps back from her. There was no connotation to his voice, no indication of positive or negative. Only a potential solution. 

Except - She closed her eyes. “I don’t think we can.” 

The crystal inside was large, but splintered all the way through. Pale in color, devoid of meaning or purpose, like broken glass. Whatever information it had housed, all of it was long, long gone.

“Maybe there are others,” Eli said, behind and to the right, while Thrawn lingered the same distance away to her left. “We’ll keep looking,” He said, but she heard that tone. They’d been looking. There were no other exhibits, no other hidden relics. This had been what they were looking for. “You did good, finding that,” He said to her, pressing his hand to her shoulder and squeezing just like she was squeezing her eyes closed, trying not to cry.

They wouldn’t find any other holocrons here. But Ezra had said that he thought she could do something. That she would know. And her feet and her feelings had led her here. So why wasn’t anything happening?

“The crystals are special,” Ezra said, voice softer than Thrawn or Eli’s. He stayed where he was. “They are what store the information. The holocron holds it in, like a password. Only the Force can open it.”

“So can you?” She asked sharply. “You could try.”

Ezra knelt beside her and sighed. “Even if I did,” He began, “This crystal is broken. It doesn’t remember its purpose.” He tilted his head to her. “But even if it wasn’t, these crystals are sensitive to the Force. It’s not calling to me.” His blue eyes held sorrow, and he patted at her shoulder almost like Eli had as he rose. “There’s… nothing I can do.”

She looked down at the dead holocron, its core cracking apart in her hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. At least - at least if they hadn’t found anything, if there had been nothing to be found they wouldn’t have gotten their hopes up, they could’ve just turned around and taken their leave.

That pulsing, pushing feeling had led her here. This couldn’t be the end, could it? All of that, all of her thinking and feeling and reaching, she had done all of it for nothing?

No. Un’hee refused to believe it.

She shoved her fingers into the open crack, snapping brittle pieces as she went, mindful of the sharp edges against her bare hands. Wrapped conduit snapped apart when she cracked the outer shell open wide, little scraps of metal crystalline tinkling to the floor, forgotten.

“Please,” She whispered, fingers twitching before she pulled the housing away from the crystal. The crystal broke in her palm, splitting into two pieces and a dusty twinkling of shards. “Please,” She repeated, unsure of what it was she was asking for. Unsure of what more it had to give.

Nothing, she realized. There was nothing left to it. It was just one more thing that war had taken from them. Very, very gently, she laid them back into the largest piece of he destroyed holocron with a silent apology. She wasn’t sure why she was sorry, what purpose that even held. It was a rock, and yet… Ezra had said these crystals - Jedi crystals - were sentient.

Because the Force was in everything.

And Un’hee, even just for a moment, had started to believe that maybe it was in her, too. Not like it was in other Chiss. She exhaled and picked herself up, dusting off her wet knees.

“It’s alright, Un’hee,” Eli said from behind her, his eyes so kind, so understanding that it made her want to sob and cling to him. Even he was having trouble trying to hide his desperation. She heard him and Thrawn talking, sometimes. And before that, him and Ar’alani. Wherever Eli went, Un’hee would go with him. And if that meant leaving to protect what he had learned from people who would exploit it, he would do that. Even if it cost him the people he loved. People who had become his family so very far from his birth-home.

Perhaps he did love the way Chiss did, after all. She just wished that there could be another way.

“Let’s go home,” Thrawn said, beckoning her on as he and Eli turned toward the stairs. His voice had gentled, too. He understood far more than he let on, she knew, but it was another thing to peel back those layers to show them to her. “We will figure this out,” He continued, giving a meaningful look to Eli. “Together.”

She nodded to them. “Okay,” She said, turning away from the broken holocron. She would choose to believe him. After all, Eli had once told her that Grand Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo could handle anything.

It wasn’t until she reached the top of the stairs that _touch_ became _sound._


	30. Chapter 30

Ar’alani approached Karyn Faro with surprising calm considering their forces were doing worse than had been projected. Together, they watched as fighters tangled with each other outside the viewport, the comms running hot with bickering amongst the factions, slurs and curses directed at each other. It was, in Faro’s estimation, very very unprofessional.

“Their hatred is ugly, Karyn Faro,” Ar’alani said, voice barely more than a whisper and yet sharp, crisp, “But it is necessary.”

“Ma’am?” Faro remained at attention. She was the only other person on the bridge who really knew what it meant to be military. For that reason, it made sense that Ar’alani had gravitated toward her. The both of them were stern, no nonsense, and had done more than their fair share of fighting what felt like pointless wars. Faro considered the theatre: wide open, but close to the capital planet. Their objective seemed far more important than Faro had ever really believed it to be.

The objective was not to win this fight. The objective was to engage. To cause destruction and not die in the process. To disrupt and act outwardly, to obscure their true purpose.

“They must believe that we are every bit as vengeful as they are.” Her expression was intense, a fury tempered by time. “If they believe we are similarly motivated by hatred, they will expect us not to be thinking in terms of the larger picture. That is our advantage.” Her eyes followed nearly identical fighters as they chased each other outside the viewport. “Lieutenant Shibu’s contacts have already made the necessary plans to divert the supplies to a safer location. Once we can confirm we’ve received the supplies they were supposed to give to the Mitth, we will withdraw.”

The _Steadfast_ would take a great deal of damage to do so, as none of their fighters had hyperdrives and it wasn’t particularly safe to jump considering the gravitational fluctuations outside the path of the families - which was still largely policed by said families.

“What are we retrieving?” Faro asked. “Weapons?”

“Weapons, rations, medical,” Ar’alani said. “And perhaps a few bonuses.”

“People?”

Ar’alani inclined her head. “It is possible. We will not know until Shibu’s team cloaks and escapes with the goods.” She issued an order to break off and change formation and listened as it was relayed by her comms officer. 

Faro pretended not to notice how long it took their fighters to follow through. “You don’t believe the Grysks have been able to infiltrate this deep into our territory, do you?”

The admiral’s eyes narrowed. “That is one of the many things we seek to find out.”

\----------

The ship seemed to tremble under enemy fire, engines straining to escape targeting range. This had always been the most difficult part of the plan, and the reason why they had waited so long to enact it. Ar’alani’s voice was strained, her worry so obvious if one only knew where to look. If only others had her balance of severity and compassion, they might not have been in this mess at all. 

"The _Steadfast_ sent us microjump coordinates," Lieutenant Shibu's first officer - of sorts - said. The six of them were dressed more like casual spacers, the kind one might see looking for a job running cargos in the dark corner of a spaceport concourse. Aside from the lieutenant, none of them appeared to have any formal military training.

Shibu’s shoulder length hair danced with the shake of their head, the lines around their eyes crinkling kindly with a wordless smile. "Admiral's just worried. We stay the course. A jump will tip them off." They paused, thinking. "But comm and tell her that or it's my rear end she'll be skinning."

"Yes, Boss." The first officer smirked, finding the situation humorous. Shibu turned back to the viewport, keying off a warning chime.

"You sure that's safe?"

“Deep breaths, Jinsa,” Their voice drawled with more than a little exasperation, eyes dancing with mirth that reflected the glittery shimmer on their angular cheekbones. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when to panic.”

Jinsa hummed something mildly disgruntled, crossing his arms to watch the sensor display. On a ship this size, it was small. And that was without the ridiculous amount of activity around them. Despite how… _close-quarters_ the freighter was, Lieutenant Shibu flitted from station to station with the kind of grace that didn’t match any pirate she could recall.

“And what say you, my dear?” Shibu asked her, their eyes bright and focused on her. They crossed the five paces that bridged from portside sensor to starboard weapons, shoulders bowing between the second and third as if recalling a bulkhead from another, more familiar vessel. “I expected more, all things considered.”

“I’m trusting you to do what you do best,” She replied firmly, dipping her head in acknowledgement. She shifted slightly, her cloak still covering her hair. “And if that means disobeying the admiral-”

“Ah,” Shibu said, their grin turning nearly feral, highlighting the lines of their jaw. She glowered in response, and Shibu laughed. “There it is,” They smirked. “You don’t mind a bit.”

She shrugged. “We do what we must.”

“That we do,” They bowed slightly, an echo of the elegant scoundrel they must have been, “That we do.”

She wondered if Ar’alani had found it difficult to accept characters like this - former smugglers and pirates, petty criminals who wanted to stop what was happening. She wondered if maybe it said more about them, said better things than it did for others, that they would stop what they were doing, would choose to fight for the Ascendancy now, had chosen to fight for the Ascendancy’s future and its children.

Or maybe, it said something else, something far more sinister. Maybe it just meant things were really that bad. 

There was also a rather large chance she was projecting, or maybe Shibu was just that gifted when it came to reading faces. “The admiral actually likes me quite a bit, syndic-”

“ _Former_ ,” She corrected hastily.

“Forgive me, _former_ syndic. She appreciates hard work. Times are tough if you’re forced to depend on people like me, but we don’t tend to learn much from routine voyages, now do we?”

“You are wise, Lieutenant Shibu.”

“If I were wise, I would have found someone like Admiral Ar’alani decades ago.” They gestured to a silver streak, near black, at their ear. “I would have pushed.” They turned to look out the viewport as an enemy fighter streaked past, nearly grazing their underbelly. “I would’ve been the best pilot in the CDF.”

“You are such a liar, Boss!” Another voice, the pilot of their vessel made a disbelieving gesture before returning both hands to the control yoke. They tilted their head for a second to look backward. “Don’t listen to a word out of their mouth. They got our last vessel blown to bits.”

“You lived, didn’t you?”

“That’s not the point. You sailed it into-”

“It’s not my fault Rentor has unpredictable electrical storms-”

“The only thing unpredictable is how far you’ll go to-”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed, one hand curled in front of her lips. “I’m sorry,” She said, when Shibu patted her shoulder. “You blew up your old ship?”

“I did. Better than letting someone help themselves to our score.”

“And what was that score, Boss?” The pilot called back. “I forget.”

“Nevermind the details,” Shibu said. “You’re almost as bad as Jinsa!”

Jinsa prickled. “I thought you said the military straightened you out! You're as awful as you've ever been."

“It's good to know the CDF hasn’t cost me my edge," They said, waving a hand. Their eyes twinkled. It was charismatic. Infectious. "Who knows? You lot might enjoy it just as much as I do."

\----------

“Do you hear that?” Un’hee asked.

Thrawn frowned, his eyes finding Eli’s first, then darting to the girl, foot poised over empty space, ready to take her first step down the staircase. Her brow was furrowed, her cheeks hot. Beside him, Eli paused. “What is it, Un’hee?” He replied, when Eli’s face gave no indication one way or the other.

Eli had locked eyes with Ezra. From the corner of his eye, he could see how stiff and still his partner had become, tension filling him before he took a deep breath and forced it out. 

“Un’hee,” Ezra said, his blue eyes narrowing. He blinked away from his stalemate with Eli. “Where?”

She turned around, away from them, confusion etched into her posture. Her hand came out, hesitant at first, but then she whirled back to look at Ezra with a shy, growing confidence.

Ezra shook his head, but there was no mistaking his smile or the anticipation in his posture. “Come on,” He said, jogging the few steps back to the upper level. 

Thrawn inclined his head to Ezra as he passed them by, then looked at Eli. “It will be alright, Eli,” Thrawn told him. Though the words wouldn't do much, he knew them to be true. “He will not lead her astray.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Eli pressed, and his searching gaze shifted something inside Thrawn, like a scrape of jagged pieces, a dissonant chord. “I’m worried-”

“You will take them both,” Thrawn said, mind submitting the output after he’d thought it over, but before he’d had the time to emotionally process the weight of it. It burned like a blaster bolt through the chest when he did, but he controlled his internal conflict. It did not show in his posture or face. He looked blank and uncaring, but the subtle break of his usual cadence spoke volumes. “If it comes to that.”

“If it comes to that, “ Eli agreed, because there was nothing else to say. Nothing they hadn’t already said. Nothing they didn’t already know.

Thrawn would never give in to such a fit of emotion, but the desire to comfort Eli was strong in that moment, to wrap his arms around him and make promises he couldn’t keep, as he had wanted to do the night before. Instead, Thrawn kept his posture in check, and they slowly ascended the stairs.

Both Un’hee and Ezra were seated cross-legged, facing each other with the shattered pieces of the useless holocron between them. Ezra was speaking softly. Un’hee's straight backed posture suggested she was hanging off of every word. Between them, there was a subtle twinkling, a tiny, feeble glow.

"What is this?" Eli said, asking the question on both their minds.

Un’hee tilted her head, regarding Eli with the tiniest smile. “It’s like,” Her forehead crinkled as she thought about how to explain it, “It’s singing to me.” She pointed down at the smaller half of the broken data crystal. “That one.”

The crystal was very much broken, split in two decisive pieces and surrounded by the dust of shards cast off when it had broke. Yes, it seemed to catch the dim light, but Thrawn could not hear any such sound.

“Can you hear it?” He asked Ezra, knowing immediately it must have something to do with the younger man’s abilities.

Ezra’s eyes were half-lidded, his focus directed downward. He barely tilted his head in a nod. “What I hear is different,” He said, the words slow and measured, his entire countenance slower, more serene. “Un’hee,” He said, flicking his deep azure gaze her way. They did not speak, but it was obvious that a conversation was taking place even as the Jedi’s eyes closed. 

Eli was so close now that his arm brushed against Thrawn’s own. The human’s expression was alight with worry and confusion. Thrawn felt the worry unnecessary, but saying so was counterproductive. It was several quiet moments - so quiet it was unnatural - before Ezra reached his hand out. Without so much as a wave, he summoned the half of the crystal Un’hee hadn’t pointed to into the palm of his hand. 

The crystal glowed between his fingers, casting a yellow-gold glow that illuminated the room like a torch. Ezra opened his eyes and looked down at it with a satisfied hum. Still cradling it in his hands, he stood. Un’hee did not so much as twitch.

“She needs to find it in the Force,” Ezra said. “The crystals are sentient,” He explained. “In the old days, my master said that Jedi went to Illum and if they were lucky, a crystal would choose them.”

“And you’ve been chosen by your lightsaber crystals in the past?” Eli asked, never taking his eyes off Un’hee.

Ezra squirmed. “My first was a gift,” He admitted a little sheepishly. “My second I found by chance. There weren’t exactly a ton of options, you know.” He snuck a glance at Thrawn, who conceded the point amiably enough for both himself and Eli, inclining his head. “This one did,” He told them. “And if she can commune with the crystal,” He turned to Eli. “We’ll know.”

“And if she does?” Eli asked, though it wasn’t much of a question. The full weight of his dark gaze was heavy, not quite a threat, but enough to suggest the severity of the situation.

“I’ll train her,” Ezra agreed.

“And the crystals?” Thrawn pressed.

The Jedi held out his hand to Thrawn, offering up the crystal, it’s clear yellow surface seemingly made new, devoid of cracks. “I’ll need to meditate with it for a long time before I can build a lightsaber,” He said, then addressed the unanswered question. “It’s not meant to be a holocron,” Ezra admitted. “That’s…” He looked between Thrawn and Eli, then dipped his head. “That’s not our path.”

\----------

She exited the freighter with her head high, looking up into - there were so many of them. It stole her breath. It was for the best, she knew, but it was hardly ideal. The Navigators looked down at her, and she wondered what it was they saw. Did they see the faded burgundy of the Mitth? Did they see someone with good intent? Or did they see yet another politician to be leery of, a woman bent on taking them away from their families?

The latter would have been her fears if she had been decades younger and in their shoes. Behind her, others disembarked from the freighter. Not enough. Not nearly as many people as she’d wanted to bring. But enough. There would be other people. Other freighters. Other shipments to take. Shibu’s people would continue to see to that, and the people that Ar’alani had inserted with their help would keep their goals within reach.

She had to believe that.

Ar’alani did not meet her, but Shibu’s hand brushed her shoulder, urging her further into the ship. As the two of them walked, they waved off their crew. Already making the shift from casual, renegade spacer to some semblance of their given rank, they issued courteous orders to the hangar crew and handed off their questis to someone who must have been a hangar overseer, though they didn’t seem to be very high in rank. All of these officers were either devastatingly young or far past their prime.

“I will take you to Admiral Ar’alani,” Shibu said. “I doubt she’s left the bridge.”

She had been expecting that. “Thank you, Lieutenant Shibu,” Thalias said.


End file.
